Enrapture
by kwater
Summary: en·rap·ture ĕn-răp'chər SYNONYMS enrapture, entrance, ravish, thrill,. These verbs mean to have a powerful, agreeable, and often overwhelming emotional effect on someone. This is the next installment in the Sara Powers storyline, for all of y
1. Chapter 1

Sam eased into the front seat of the Impala, careful not to slam the door. He didn't want to risk drawing Dean's wrath if he could in any way avoid it. In fact, it seemed as if he'd spent the last six months trying to dodge his brother's temper. A temper that had only increased in the four days since they'd landed in Shartlesville, Pennsylvania.

Their return to Pennsylvania for the first time since Dean had broken things off with Sara had apparently come too soon for Dean. Sam would have been happy to hand this hunt off to Bobby, but Dean had been strangely insistent that they be the ones to handle it.

The town located only an hour from Sara's home town of Haycock boasted little in the way of entertainment, unless of course you could call a haunted Dairy Queen entertainment. Ralph Post, the owner of the ice-cream shop had been having problems with his father-in-law's spirit. Apparently, the old man, who'd had a heart attack while tossing out the trash, had been unable to deal with the fact that his son-in-law was set to inherit his shop. Dealing with Clyde, the whip cream throwing father-in-law was the easiest job the brothers had done in a while.

Not that Sam was complaining. The free ice cream they scored after ridding the owner of his father-in-law's ghost had been the best payment the brothers had received in awhile. Sam snorted as he admitted to himself that technically it had been the only payment they'd received. Regardless of how thankful people were when you dispose of their unwanted, long-dead relatives, they were never quite thankful enough to pay.

It was a little after five in the morning when they pulled out of Shartlesville. Sam, anxious to avoid his brother's surely attitude, quickly took advantage of the Impala's roomy cab, stretching out for some much-needed sleep. An hour later, Dean tapped him awake and shoved him toward a hotel room where he'd promptly collapsed on the bed farthest from the door.

Sam managed another eight hours before the need to relieve himself became overwhelming. As he made his way toward the bathroom, he sneaked a peak at his watch. Noting the time, he decided on a shower as well. Knowing Dean, his brother would be up and ready to find something to eat soon anyway.

Sam was right, within the hour Dean was showered, dressed, and ready to go. It wasn't until they left the hotel that Sam realized where his brother had chosen to stop. "We're in Quakertown," Sam said, stating the obvious.

"Thanks for the update, I hadn't realized," Dean snapped as he'd stepped up to the car.

Sam rolled his eyes and automatically followed, settling into the passenger side of the car, a million questions running through his mind. Dean had spent the last six months denying Sara's very existence. Sam couldn't imagine what had changed enough for his brother to pick a hotel only miles away from her house. As they drove into town, Sam pulled out every trick in his bag to get Dean to talk to him. His stubborn brother remained mute however, even managing to ignore Sam's puppy eyes.

Dean continued his silent act all through the drive and even into the restaurant. Finally, they were settled into a back booth at the local diner. Sam felt swamped by a wave of homesickness as they'd walked into the familiar restaurant. Though, it wasn't Sara's favorite, the one Dean chose boasted a kind wait staff and always had room for large parties. Twice over the time they'd known Sara they'd been invited on a family breakfast to this same place. Sam couldn't help but smile as he remembered the first time he'd dined out with Sara, her kids, her parents, and her brother's family.

"Stop staring at me, Sam."

Sam shrugged and glanced away unsure of what to say. Dean normally avoided speaking of the Power's family in any way. He decided to take their locale as a good sign, and dove in with both feet. "Do you remember the first time we had breakfast with them all?"

"I remember you panicked at the sight of all those kids. I swear I've seen you face vampires with more courage," Dean said with a smile.

If Sam had been anyone else his brother's causal smile would have seemed genuine. To Sam, though, it did nothing to hide the pain that caused his brother's jaw to tighten and his gaze to shift slightly. Sam, desperate to coax a true smile, played it up. "Yeah, well if I remember right, you weren't exactly Mr. Cool. You nearly choked to death when her father asked what you did for a living."

Dean's smile turned genuine. "Yeah, well, it's not like I've met a lot of overprotective Dads in my time."

Sam grinned, and cocked a finger. "Only the one's holding shotguns, huh?"

Dean's boom of laughter rang out over the low murmur of the other patrons. "Not me, Sammy. I've never needed to creep out of bedroom windows, I've always been smart enough to stick with the ones who know the score."

As soon as the words left his mouth, all the laughter died out of Dean's face. Sam's stomach dropped with disappointment as Dean rubbed a hand over his too thin face. Now that Sam really took the time to look he could see what the past six months had done to his brother. He'd lost weight, his normally rough beard was a bit longer than normal and his eyes were ringed with circles of exhaustion.

Sam leaned slightly forward, trying to form the words that would ease his brother's pain. He understood what Dean was going through. If anyone understood the pain of losing someone you loved, it was Sam. Though, Sara still breathed, the torture of staying away from her was killing his brother as surely as Jess's death had ripped Sam apart.

Unable to offer any words of comfort, Sam simply picked up his menu and asked, "What're you getting?"

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It wasn't long after the waitress had cleared their plates and Dean had drunk his third cup of coffee that he finally broke the silence. "I've been dreaming of Sara lately."

If Sam hadn't been covertly watching his brother, he might have missed the softly spoken words. Dean's eyes were pinned to his cup and both hands were wrapped tight around it. Sam opted for silence, content to wait to hear the reason they'd come back to the area.

Dean looked up. "I've been dreaming about her. Bad dreams."

Sam, unsure of what Dean was saying, offered, "Dean, I dreamt about Jess a lot, after. It's not surprising."

Dean shook his head, leaning forward to press his point. "No, you don't understand, Sam. These aren't 'crap I've made the biggest mistake of my life' dreams. They're nightmares." Dean turned to look out the window as he continued speaking, "She's in the woods and I can't get to her." Dean paled even farther, as he relived the dream. "She needs me, Sam. And I can't…" Dean's voice dropped to a whisper, "I can't save her."

Sam sat back, floored, as memories assaulted him, beating him down until he felt ready to vomit. He'd dreamed about Jess for days before she'd died. Repeatedly, he'd dreamt of her fiery death only to dismiss the visions for nightmares. Instinct took over, Sam reached into his pocket pulled out his money clip and tossed a couple of bills on the table. Moving to stand, he was surprised when Dean reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"Sam, wait."

Sam looked at him in confusion. "What, Dean, we need to make sure she's okay."

Dean tugged on Sam's arm, pulling the younger man back into his seat. "Just listen to me. When I found out we'd be in the area, I called Bobby and asked if he'd seen her lately."

Sam raised an eyebrow in surprise, as far as he knew, Dean hadn't talked to Bobby about anything even slightly resembling Sara in months. The older hunter had been way too vocal about Dean's decision to leave the woman Bobby considered to be family. "You called, Bobby?"

"Yeah, I wasn't going to come even this close if everything seemed on the up and up." Dean signaled to the waitress for a refill.

"God, Dean, you're going to end up with an ulcer," Sam said referring to the fact that Dean'd been mainlining coffee for a couple of months now.

Dean grimaced down into his coffee cup before nodding in agreement. "Yeah, you're right, let's just get out of here."

Sam nodded his accord and followed his brother out into the cool night air. Glancing up, Sam admired the bright orange full moon that hovered near the horizon. It was the familiar sound of the Impala's door opening that caught his attention. A glance toward the car showed Dean already in and waiting. After one last look at the moon, Sam followed suit.

Once settled inside the Impala, Sam hesitated, unsure of what he should say. At last he settled for a question. "So has Bobby talked to her?"

Dean nodded, his hands resting lightly in his lap, as he stared out at the nearly empty parking lot. "Yeah, he talks to her at least once a week. I got the impression he's still concerned that Gordon's disappearance might be traced back to her."

Sam nodded in understanding. He'd spoken to Bobby several times in regard to that same subject. Though they both felt sure Sara was safe, neither one was willing to relax just yet. Even a chance link between Sara and Gordon, or even Sara and the Winchesters would be enough to put her and her family at risk. Gordon might not have had a lot of close friends but the few he did have were dedicated to finding out what had become of the hunter.

The fact that he'd been shot and cremated on Sara's property, his ashes buried deep in the woods, only increased everyone's unease. So far, luck had been on their side. It seemed as if Gordon hadn't spoken to anyone about his vendetta against Sam. Bobby figured he'd been too embarrassed about coming out on the bottom after each encounter with the brothers to say much to anyone.

"However, he hasn't seen her in a month or so. He's been in the western part of the country and hasn't gotten back this way," Dean said, his hands reaching up to grip the steering wheel.

"Yeah, but if Bobby's talking to her, I'm sure she's fine." Sam wasn't sure, but other than reassure his brother, what else could he say. He had little doubt that Dean's dreams were simply manifestations of guilt and unhappiness. After all, his big brother wasn't the psychic in the family.

"Not good enough, Sam. You know Sara, even if something was wrong, she'd never say a word. That's why I stopped here in town. I need to make sure she's okay."

Sam lifted a brow in surprise. "You wanna stop by the house?"

Dean seemed to consider Sam's words for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, I think that'd be best."

Sam nearly whooped with joy at the idea of going home. He'd missed Sara and the kids more than he ever could have imagined. Unable to tear himself completely out of the Power's life he'd been e-mailing the kids. Careful to exchange no more than silly stories and observations about the countryside, he'd learned very little in return. Unsurprising as seven year olds weren't very observant of the world around them. Oh, he knew what movies they'd last seen, what each was up to in school, and the fact that Jessie'd moved out of her crib and into a 'big bed', but that was pretty much it. He had no idea how Sara had handled Dean's leaving or of the repercussions Gordon's attack'd had on her and her family.

"Of course, we can't let her know we're there."

Dean's statement shot down Sam's every hope. "What?"

Dean glanced toward Sam, his face drawn tight. "I can't just pop in and say, 'hey how's things?' then leave again, Sam. It's not fair. The only way to do this is for her to never know we're there."

Sam snorted, his frustration with his brother quickly overcoming his pity. "What're we gonna do? Hide in the bushes and peek in her windows?"

"Worked with you," Dean said, anger filling his tone.

Sam jerked around to face Dean, anger rolling right over his earlier frustration. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

In the face of Sam's fury, Dean seemed to calm. "What'd you think, Sam? I let you go off to Stanford without keeping tabs on you. Come on, I spent 18 years watching over you. You walking out of that door wasn't going to change anything."

"But, you said Dad…" Sam sputtered, unbalanced by the idea that Dean had snuck around campus checking up on him.

Dean paused for a moment before turning the key in the ignition. "Dad's the one that said, 'Stay Gone', not me." Dean's low voice was barely discernable over the roar of the engine.

Sam leaned back in his seat unable to formulate a response. On one hand, the fact that his brother'd had his back during one of the most difficult times in his life reassured him in a way he'd never be able to understand. On the other, the idea that Dean had felt he still needed looking after re-awoke the long dormant urge to be free of the confines of his family. Sam blew out a breath and pushed everything away, now wasn't the time. He was sure he'd have plenty of other opportunities to wonder at just how abnormal his life was another time.

"Seriously, Dean, do you even have a plan? Cause I'm not going to peep in Sara's windows." Sam crossed his arms over his chest, hating just how defensive his voice sounded.

"Of course I have a plan."

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"Dean, this is stupid and immature," Sam spoke low into the cell phone he held to his ear as he edged closer to the brightly lit kitchen window.

"Just shut up and do it, Sam. We need to get out of here before Jack realizes anyone's around."

Sam cursed as he tripped yet again. "Tell me once more, why we can't just go to the front door and knock?"

"You know why, Sam."

The pain in Dean's voice was enough to make Sam relent. Though he still thought this the stupidest of ideas, he couldn't help but feel pity for his brother. As he moved ever closer to the kitchen window, his cell phone pressed up against his ear, he silently berated himself for ever agreeing to this. "I still don't see why I couldn't just walk up to the door, Dean. I mean I get why you don't feel you can, but she--"

"Will you just cut the crap and do it already, Sam? My God, just take a look make sure everything's okay. That's all I'm asking."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's irritated voice, but the gesture was wasted on the cell phone. No matter, he planned to do plenty of eye-rolling when he got back to the car. He still didn't understand how he'd ended up here in Sara's back yard, cell phone in hand as he peeped in her windows.

At last, Sam eased toward the house, careful to just barely peep over the windowsill. In an instant, his earlier feelings of homesickness returned with a vengeance. Sara stood by the kitchen table, Jess on a stool by her side. The two of them were focused on the bowl that Sara held. Jess was nearly dancing she was so excited. He was so used to the footy pajamas she usually wore that he was shocked to see how grown up she looked in her tiny, ruffled, pink nightgown. Jim sat at the table, a notebook spread out before him as he worked on what was obviously homework. His hair was longer than normal, though his dimpled grin hadn't changed a bit.

A moment later, Mike came running into the room. He had a Spiderman backpack slung over one shoulder and was shouting something to his mom. As he dropped his bag at the table, he chatted as he pulled papers from his backpack. Sam felt an ache in his chest as he realized just how much he'd missed Mike's chatter.

As he watched, he was surprised by the sound of a vehicle coming down the drive. For an instant he thought it was the Impala, or maybe he just hoped. Instead, the low smooth growl of an expensive engine filled the night air.

"Sam, you've got company," Dean's voice hissed through the night air.

Sam nodded before realizing the futility of the gesture. "Got it," he whispered, ducking down a little to ensure he wasn't seen.

He heard the slam of car doors and the low mutter of voices. A moment later, Jack sent up a fuss and the kids began to clamor in excitement. From his vantage point, Sam could easily see the front door. He watched as Jess jumped from her perch and went running toward the entrance, her tiny legs pumping fast to ensure she reached it first.

Unfortunately, she couldn't compete with her brothers and her squeal of fury echoed through the house as Jim ducked in front of her and wrenched open the door.

She stood near the kitchen table, only her profile visible to Sam. As he watched Sara's mother-in-law Judy stepped into the kitchen reaching out for a hug. Sam smiled softly as he watched the two women. He knew Sara well enough to know she barely tolerated the woman, and that little bit only for the children's sake. Though Sara's husband had been gone for nearly four years now, Judy still tried her best to direct every aspect of the Power's family. Only Sara's constant vigilance had kept the overbearing woman from running roughshod over her these last couple of years.

Sam's bout of nostalgia ended when he saw a tall man step up behind Judy. At first, he assumed it was Judy's husband. It wasn't until the bright glow of the kitchen lights illuminated the man that Sam realized it wasn't.


	2. Chapter 2

"Shit," Sam breathed as he took in Sara's company.

"Sam, what's wrong, Sam. Answer me," Dean's voice demanded.

"Everything's fine, Dean. I'm coming up," Sam whispered just before he hit the off on his cell. Knowing Judy, Sam had a good idea who the man that now reached out to warmly hug Sara was. Tall, probably close to Sam's own six foot four inches, the stranger looked to be a bit older than Sara, probably in his early forties. He had an athletic build and his chiseled face was well tanned. The man's bearing screamed of confidence and his bright white smile flashed often.

Though he knew he shouldn't be surprised, Sam couldn't help it. Ever since Sara's husband had died, Judy had been pressing her to re-marry. In pursuit of that goal, the tiny little woman had been pushing men at Sara for years regardless of what she might want. Sara had always laughed at her mother-in-laws somewhat dubious efforts. At least, Sam thought with a grimace, until now.

As Sara stood conversing with the man, Sam felt anger rip through him. He knew it wasn't fair but, he'd stood by and watched his brother suffer for the last six months and here Sara had been entertaining prospective husbands. The worst was when the man bent over and swept Jessie into his arms. Even from outside the window Sam could see Jess's smile and hear her laugh.

Unable to watch any longer Sam began to back away from the window as the man and Judy walked out of the kitchen. As the kids followed them out only Sara was left in the room. Sam wasn't sure what made him stop but suddenly he wanted one last look at the woman who had given him a family.

Safely ensconced in the shadows, Sam watched as Sara approached the sink. For the first time since he'd looked in the window he could see her every feature highlighted by the warm glow of the kitchen lights.

As Sam watched, the smile she'd worn earlier seemed to slip from her face and her eyes became awash with tears. She was thinner than Sam remembered, her normally softly rounded face was more defined, her cheek bones more pronounced. Her normally flashing green eyes seemed dull, and the shadows beneath them rivaled Dean's. As she stood her hunched shoulders hitched once and Sam could have sworn he heard her give a muffled sob. She stood there for only a moment before she swiped at her cheeks and pulled back her shoulders. With an obviously forced smile she turned to follow her guests.

Sam silently watched the house for another moment before coming to a decision. Despite of what he'd seen, or in spite of it, he was here not to judge Sara but to make sure she was safe. Whether or not she'd moved on, neither Sam nor Dean would want anything to befall her small family. They'd already been through so much, they deserved to be as safe as Sam could make them. With that in mind, he began to check the perimeter of the house.

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At long last, Sam found himself at the side door to the garage. He took a careful glance around and reached into his pocket. Sara had given both him and Dean a set of house keys and Sam had kept his in the off chance they came back. Now, he found himself glad as he entered the garage. He'd double checked the perimeter of the house to ensure it was as safe as could be. He only needed to check the garage and the basement and he'd be done. The garage offered access to the house in two different entries, one to the first floor and one to the basement. Six months ago Gordon had entered the house this way. Despite the fact that he was human and therefore protection symbols and salt would have done nothing to stop him, Sam still wanted to be sure that nothing else could enter that way.

Sam carefully checked over the garage and then headed for the basement entrance. Even though Sara rarely used the stairs leading to cellar, Sam still wanted to check it over. Dean would expect nothing less, and Sam couldn't bear it if something was wrong and he missed it. Easing down the stairs, he paused before the basement entrance and tried to open the door. Thankfully, it was locked which proved to Sam that Sara was at least being cautious. Using the same key as the back door, Sam eased the door open.

His only warning was a low growl that barely registered. Then something large, solid, and relatively stinky hit him head on, knocking him to the ground with a bone jarring thud. The next thing he knew he was being treated to a tongue bath by Sara's Saint Bernard.

It took all of Sam's strength to get the dog to back off, at least enough for him to sit-up. "Gerrof, 'ack," Sam sputtered as he began to struggle in earnest to avoid getting more tongue than he'd had in a while. The animal's breath was stifling and his low cries were gaining in intensity. Sam, afraid the dog would give away his presence, finally gave in and wrapped his arms around the smelly beast, locking him in a bear hug. Jack stilled immediately, his big head dropping pathetically to Sam's shoulder, his giant body growing still.

There, in the dim glow from the exposed light bulb overhead, the cold of the concrete floor chilling him, Sam sat. His arms wrapped tightly around the shoulders of the one hundred and sixty pound slobbering mass of fur. It was the first time he'd felt at home in the last six months. In fact, the dog's absolute joy at seeing him again caused his eyes to dampen. "At least you haven't forgotten us, have you boy?" Sam said as he reached up to gently scratch at Jack's silky brown ears. At the touch the dog dropped completely to his belly his upper half sprawled on Sam's legs, his big head pushing against Sam's stomach.

Despite his protesting legs, Sam continued to stroke Jack, while he quietly praised the Power's family protector. Though, with strings of drool hanging from his jowls, and his droopy brown eyes, the big dog in no way looked the part of a hero. In this case, looks were deceiving. Jack had, more than once, thrown himself in the path of danger to save the people he loved so loyally.

"What are you doing down here, Boy?" Sam couldn't help but wonder what Jack had done to end up banished to the basement. Normally, he could be found only a step or two behind whichever member of the Power's family that happened to be holding food. Otherwise, he spent his time with Michael, Sara's second child. The boy and the dog had a strong bond that had only gained in strength with time.

Content for the time being to just sit and pet Jack, Sam pushed everything else away for the moment. That is, until his pocket began to vibrate. Jack feeling the movement jumped up and back a foot and stared intently at Sam. Afraid the dog would begin to bark, Sam pulled out his phone and patted his lap once more. Jack didn't need a second invite to drop down next to Sam with a thump. Laying his head on Sam's lap, the dog wuffed gently and was silent.

Careful to keep his voice low, Sam didn't bother with hello. "I told you I'll be right there," he snapped. After all, if his brother was in such a rush he should be the one snooping around Sara's life, not him.

"What the hell, Sam. What's taking you so long?" Dean's tone betrayed his worry.

Sam automatically felt contrite. "I'm sorry, man. I wanted to make sure everything was okay and I stopped to check the basement. Jack kinda caught me by surprise."

"You okay?" Dean asked anxiously. Sam could understand why, Jack had been taught to protect his family and he alone decided which threats were real and which were not.

"Naw, it's like I never left," Sam said with an eye-roll as the dog tried to worm even closer.

"You're getting some lovin', huh?" Dean asked, a bit of humor now inflecting his words. "That must be nice, huh, Sam? Even with the dog breath, it's the most tongue you've gotten in a while."

Dean's echo of his own thoughts did nothing to improve Sam's humor. "Did you actually want something or were you just calling to give me shit?"

"Naw, I was just wondering what was taking so long? Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Sam said as he struggled to his feet. "Everything seems on the up and up. I'm headed back now." Sam didn't bother to wait for his brother's response. He'd risked too much already and there was a good chance that any minute now someone would come down here to get the dog.

Sam double checked the basement's safety and then headed for the door to the garage. As he moved to leave, he felt a tug on his pants leg. He looked back to find Jack had a mouthful of his jeans and was giving him the saddest set of eyes he'd ever seen. Saddened by the thought he might never see the dog again, Sam dropped to one knee and spoke softly.

"I gotta go, big guy. I want you to take good care of them, you understand?" Sam said as he rubbed the dog's velvety soft ears.

Patting Jack's head once more, he turned to make his way up the stairs. A low whine brought his attention back to Jack. The dog's attention seemed to be divided between Sam and the stairs leading up to the kitchen.

"You stay with them, Jack. Keep them safe." Sam turned and refused to look back despite another low whine. Up the stairs and out of the garage he went, careful to lock up and leave no trace that he'd been there. He knew Sara well enough to understand just how upset she'd be by the thought of someone in her house.

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Dean stood at the top of the hill his gaze pinned on the house he could barely make out below. They'd left the Impala hidden on a back road about a half-mile away and had walked the rest of the way to Sara's. The sleek black Chevy stood out and if any mention of the car reached Sara's ears she would know he was in town. As he waited for his brother, he found himself re-living his most recent nightmare.

Easily the most hands down disturbing dream he'd had so far, he'd awoken with a scream building in his throat. Only years of practice had allowed him to slam the walls down on his emotions until he was able to slip into the bathroom of the motel. There he'd sank to the floor, his head resting back on the edge of the tub, his knees drawn to his chest as he tried to banish the images that burned his brain. It was no use.

The sight of Sara, his vibrant, beautiful Sara, sprawled across the forest floor a trickle of blood escaping her slightly blue lips was killing him. It was physically causing him pain. His heart ached at the memory of the deep purple shadows that ringed her vacant stare. He had no doubt she was dead. In the dream, he dropped to her side, the pain of her loss tearing him apart, his only wish to lie down beside her and die. As he'd reached out to touch her, he felt himself being ripped away. Sara and the familiarity of her property were gone from his sight, in their place was a dark tunnel. The low ceiling and hand-hewed walls were wet with condensation and the floor beneath him was a mire of mud and debris. Trapped in the tunnel, the dream always ended with him alone and unable to find her again.

That had been the dream that drove him to Haycock. It was only after he'd made the decision to return that he had been able to breathe again. Now, he was at a loss as to what more he could do. Upon arriving in town, he'd been thankful when Sam had collapsed into bed, a light snore almost immediately issuing from the younger man. Grateful for the privacy he'd begun researching the area looking for anything that would give him a direction to start in. Scouring the local newspapers and morgues had given him little to go by. At last, unable to find anything wrong, he'd decided they needed to physically check up on the Power's family. Losing the struggle to stay awake, Dean finally gave in to the urge. Lying down on his hard, narrow bed he'd quickly fallen asleep, only to awaken bathed in sweat with his heart pounding as if it would explode. It had taken every moment that Sam was in the shower for Dean to compose himself. He didn't want his brother, who was already hovering in worry to become even more concerned.

Now as he stood watching the only home he could ever remember having, he wondered what to do. Sam had indicated nothing was wrong at the house. So where did that leave him and his dreams? Did that mean Sam was right and the dreams were simply a manifestation of the guilt and pain he was feeling, or was it something else? Something he might have missed in his earlier study of the town.

At last, he saw Sam making his way back to him and he came to a decision. He needed to be sure. There was no way he could turn his back on Sara while there was still a doubt in his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

"Dean, I really don't think this is necessary. I told you everything looks good. Every spell and protection symbol we put in place is working just fine." Sam rubbed his eyes, as the ache behind them intensified. All the way back to the motel he'd struggled with the decision to tell Dean about Sara's apparent Romeo. The last thing he wanted was to cause Dean more pain. Regardless of how much his older brother professed to want Sara to 'move on' Sam knew it was crap. His brother could deny he was hurting all he wanted but in reality, all it took was a single glance at his thin face and his shadowed eyes to know otherwise.

"Sam, just do it. I'm asking you, please? I need to be sure."

It was the 'please' that got Sam. Nodding his head, he dropped down at the small round table the motel provided and opened his lap-top. "I just don't get what I'm going to find that you didn't. You said you already looked into the town and it came up clean."

Dean shook his head as he paced the close confines of the room. It took his brother thirteen steps to go from the far bed to the one closest to Sam. Thirteen steps, Sam was certain because he'd counted the first thirty times Dean had trod that same path. His brother had been unable to settle to anything ever since they'd arrived back at the hotel.

"No, Sam. Dad always said you were better at research," Dean's words were said with conviction.

Sam rolled his eyes as he began his search. "He was full of shit," were the words he muttered, though, he was careful to keep his tone low. Dean didn't do well with any type of criticism aimed at their father, not even when the words rang true. Or maybe even more, Sam decided, when the words were true.

As he settled, scanning all the usual sites for anything out of the ordinary, Dean became more and more agitated. At last, unable to concentrate Sam snapped, "Dean, just go. I don't care where. Just give me some time to do what you asked."

Dean nodded in agreement as he grabbed his keys and his coat from the nearest bed. "You're right, I'm gonna take a look around town. See if I hear anything of interest."

Before his words were completely out, Dean was half-way out the motel room door. As he listened to the familiar roar of the Impala, Sam said a prayer of thanks and returned his attention to the screen in front of him.

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Dean put the gearshift in park and sat for a moment. At last, with a sigh he removed his keys and reached for the door. The familiar creak sounded too loud in the quiet night of the parking lot. As he walked toward the hotel room, he found himself wondering if they should just leave. Just take off and put the call into Bobby that would send the older man racing here. He could take care of whatever Sam had found and it would allow Sara to continue with her life.

Continue with her life, well that hadn't taken long. Although he knew it was selfish he couldn't believe that she was already dating someone else. Regardless of the fact that he wanted her to be happy, the thought of Sara with someone else was enough to make him physically sick. He should be able to find some happiness in the thought that she was moving on, but that seemed impossible at the moment.

At least it explained why Sam had acted so off tonight. His kid brother must have seen Sara and the guy together and was wrestling with his conscious as to whether he should tell Dean. Little did his brother know that Sara's uncle had been only too happy to make it known when Dean had made a stop at his bar. At first, the older man had nearly run Dean off with a baseball bat when the hunter had first walked through the door. It was only Dean's assurances that he wasn't planning on contacting Pat's niece that kept the older man from taking a swing. After listening to Pat describe just how devastated Sara had been after he left town, Dean almost wished the old man had taken the bat to him.

He had never considered how hard it would be on her. So intent on doing the right thing, he hadn't allowed himself to think of the consequences. Now, here he was showing up in town just as she was getting her feet back under her. Dean blanched at the thought of what seeing him would do to her. His own pain he could and would accept, but he couldn't stand the idea of hurting Sara anymore. They needed to leave town and they needed to do it now. Dream or no dream, his being here was a mistake. Decision made, Dean put his game face back on and opened the door to the motel room.

As he walked into the dimly lit room, he sent his brother a grin. "So what'd you find?"

Sam who still sat in front of the computer held his hands out and shrugged. "Nothing. I told you I wouldn't. I checked the morgues, no unusual deaths, I checked the police reports, no unexplained accidents, I checked the hospitals, there's no mysterious illness or cases. I even went so far as to check the schools, Dean. There's nothing going on in Haycock, or any of the surrounding towns."

"Good, let's get going then," Dean said as he moved to the bed and began gathering up his bags. This was just perfect, on top of everything else he was going crazy. He'd really thought his dreams had substance, that he wasn't just suffering from leaving Sara.

The sight of Sam's eyebrows shooting up under his thick, dark bangs was nearly enough to bring a smile to Dean's face. "Come on, dude, haul ass."

"Dean, wait, I really think we should at least stay the night. It's after two in the morning, no one knows we're here and at least we can get some sleep."

Though Sam's argument was a good one, Dean ignored his brother. He couldn't stay here another hour let alone another night. He knew if he did, he'd seek her out, it was inevitable. Like a moth drawn to a flame, Sara and her family called to Dean making him ache to return to her. Now, in such close proximity knowing she was only a couple of miles away, that ache had grown. He didn't know how much longer he could stay strong. "Now, Sam."

Bags in hand Dean didn't bother to wait for his brother, he just headed out the door. He knew Sam well enough to know that he'd give in.

888

Sam cursed his stubborn brother as he struggled to get his shoes back on. He'd been expecting Dean to want to leave, but not in the middle of the night. He had yet to tell his brother about the strange man he'd seen and now he was out of time. Part of him hoped that if Dean knew there was another man he'd be able to find the closure he needed to get on with his life. Even though, that would mean leaving the Power's family behind, Sam could deal with it if it gave him his brother back.

The problem was, he couldn't decide if what he'd seen was real. If this guy was someone special to Sara or just another one of her mother-in-law's offerings.. The fact that she was being polite wasn't exactly a big scarlet A on her chest.

Then there were the dreams, what if whatever was causing Dean's dream was real. Sam's own experience made it hard for him to dismiss his brother's nightmares out of hand, despite the lack of evidence. He would never forgive himself if there was something supernatural going on and he simply hadn't been able to figure it out.

"Argh," he groaned as he gathered his duffle and headed out the door. All in all, the only thing he could do is buy himself more time. Problem was if Dean was determined to leave then leave he would. There was little Sam could do to stop him. Maybe though, Sam thought as he dropped into the passenger side of the Chevy, maybe he could stall him.

"Dean, lets stop and get a bite. I'm starving."

Dean turned toward Sam, one eyebrow raised and asked, "You're hungry."

"Yeah, what, I can't get hungry? You're hungry all the time."

Dean nodded and put the car in gear, pulling out of the spot he said, "I could eat."

888

This twenty-four hour diner was Sara's favorite place to eat. Sam tried not to think about it and he was sure his brother was doing the same. After ordering coffee and breakfast, Sam settled down to try and guilt his brother into staying for just a bit longer.

"You know, I was thinking."

"Should I alert the media?"

Sam blew out a breath and ignored his brother. "I was thinking that it was possible you're dreams might be signifying something that's about to happen. What if we're too early, what if whatever's wrong is still out there and headed for Sara.?"

The slight smile slipped off Dean's face as he nodded. "Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. I'm gonna call Bobby and get him to come on out here. He can keep tabs on 'em."

Sam nodded unsure of what else he could say. The more he thought about it the more he felt they should stay. Sara had seemed so completely devastated in that one unguarded moment, that Sam felt certain she wanted Dean back. His brother's scruffy beard and shadowed eyes were a testament to just how much Dean wanted to be with her. God knows Sam would do nearly anything to have his family back.

The brothers continued to eat in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. It wasn't until Dean picked the check up off the table that Sam finally had an idea. Standing up, he grabbed his coat and said to his brother, "I'm gonna use the bathroom, I'll meet you in the car."

Not bothering to wait for a response, Sam took off toward the back of the restaurant. Luckily the bathroom door was near the kitchen access. His need for urgency over road any doubts. He'd worry about what he was about to do later, for now, he just needed to stop his brother.

888

Sam walked back through the restaurant surprised to see Dean still sitting. Actually, he had to admit he wasn't all that surprised. The brothers had learned they didn't do well when separated, in fact usually it was a recipe for disaster as it had led to Sam's abduction more than once and Dean's capture by Gordon. No it, really wasn't surprising at all.

Not bothering to comment on the fact that his brother had waited for him, Sam asked, "Ready?"

"More than, let's hit it."

They were halfway toward the car when Dean exclaimed, "No, no, no, no, no. Oh, god no."

"What's wrong?" Sam asked squinting a bit in the dim light.

"What's wrong, oh, god, baby," Dean said as he ran his hands over the glossy black hood. Dropping down on one knee, he reached a hand out to touch the obviously flat front driver-side tire. "Who the hell would do such a thing?" Dean questioned out loud as he looked at the rear tire which was similarly flat.

"It's probably just kids letting the air out of tires," Sam said trying to put things in perspective for his brother.

Dean's forehead came to rest on the deflated tire. "No, they stabbed the wall of the tire. It's ruined," Dean said as he ran a finger over the ragged cut.

"Well, you can plug them and have them filled right?" Sam asked trying not to sound too worried.

"No, if they'd punctured the tread I could have repaired it, but now I'm gonna need to get two new tires." Dean stood and turned from the car, his hunter's gaze seeking out every shadow as if to find the person that had done this.

"Huh, I didn't know that," Sam said rather weakly as he stared down at the ruined tires. Both wheels on the driver side had been obviously slashed.

"We're gonna have to start walking, Sam. There's no driving her." Dean's actions suited his words as he gathered his belongings out of the car.

"Aren't you gonna call for a tow?" Sam asked as he grabbed his jacket and his bag out.

"No way am I calling in some country bumpkin to tow my baby. I'll call Brian in the morning and have him flatbed it to the shop. Damn two tires, man." Once Dean was assured the doors were all locked, the two brothers began the walk back to the hotel.

"Why Brian, can't you have anyone tow it?" Sam really would prefer to keep Dean and Brian apart from each other. He didn't want the mechanic and long time friend of Sara's talking out of turn about Sara and the man Sam had seen.

"He's the only one in town with a flatbed. No way am I gonna risk having a wrecker pick it her up."

"What's the difference?" Sam asked as he followed his brother through the parking lot to the store lot that was attached to it. He really couldn't say that he cared about the answer. Except they had a four mile walk in front of them and it had gotten cold. Sam figured the wrath in Dean's voice, as his brother expounded about all the ways his car had been abused, would help to keep him warm.

"What's the difference? I'm telling you, Sam, some days I really have doubts we're brothers. A wrecker only lifts the front tires off the road, leaving the rear tires on the ground. Now with one of the back tires slashed that would ruin the rim. Replacing the tires with the mount and balancing costs is gonna run us over a hundred bucks a tire as it is. If I had to replace the rims that would set us back another $ 250.00 at least. And I could forget getting my hands on the originals, I'd have to sell you in order to afford a pair of those."

The tone of Dean's voice let Sam know he would consider doing just that if it were to come to it. "All you needed to say was it would ruin the rims, Dean," Sam muttered already bored with the 'Auto Shop for Dummies' lesson that Dean was giving him.

Dean threw his hand in the air and practically growled, "Ruin the rims? That's the least it might do, Sam. The Impala's an automatic, if I were dumb enough to have a wrecker tow her I run the risk of ruining the transmission. Do you know how much a new tranie would run us…"

As his brother continued his rant, Sam picked up his pace a little. He was beginning to realize just how much they were standing out. In a small town like this, two guys walking down the street at three in the morning were bound to draw notice. This was especially true when the shorter of the two men was now throwing his arms up in the air as he debated the differences between original and worked transmissions.

"Dean, quiet. It's three in the morning."

"I can't help it, Sam," Dean said his whisper closer to a heartfelt cry. "I've never just left her like that before, sitting in some parking lot, broken and abandoned. I'm gonna go back and wait in the car till morning." Dean had actually turned around and was walking the other way before Sam registered his words.

"Dean. No, you can't. Just get back here, we'll go to the motel and figure it all out."

"You two boys about done with your lover's spat. Cause some of the neighbors would like to get back to sleep."

Sam closed his eyes at the unfamiliar voice and dropped his chin to his chest. Shit, this was so not working out as he planned. At last, Sam turned and faced the officer that stood about six feet away. The man held a flashlight in one hand and was shining it at the Winchester's feet, his other hand was resting on his gun holster.

Hands held lightly in the air, Sam said, "Sorry, officer, we didn't realize we were being so loud."

Dean stepped up beside Sam and groaned softly, his hands were also held slightly in the air. "Car broke down, we were just headed for the hotel."

"And where did this supposed car break down, over at the Wagon Wheel?"

"No, sir, we were at the diner. Came out of the restaurant and someone had slashed her tires," Dean replied.

Sam could hear the effort his brother was putting into being polite, but he found himself wincing at Dean's use of 'her'.

"Her, huh? Well now, why don't you two go ahead and get into the squad car. We'll head on over to the station do a little breathalyzer test and then I'll take you to the motel myself if your story checks out," the officer's easy tone belayed the underlying steel in his voice.

Dean's voice matched the officer's, tone for tone. "We weren't doing anything, if you wanna play twenty questions and do a breathalyzer I've got no problem with that, but there's no need to take us down to the station."

"I'll take you wherever the hell I want, you got that, smart mouth?" the officer's voice was beginning to rise.

"Officer, please, we haven't had a drink all night," Sam lied knowing that his brother had probably downed a couple beers at the Eagle, Sara's uncle's place. "We were just passing through town and ran into a bit of bad luck."

"Okay so you're not drunk, you wanna tell me what's in those duffels? We've been plagued lately with a rash of robberies. You boys don't know nothing about that do you?"

Sam could see his brother tensing and he knew Dean was formulating a plan. A plan that would leave the policeman unconscious and Sam and Dean no longer able to show their faces in this town. Out of desperation Sam said, "Listen, in the morning we're gonna have Brian Reed tow the car back to his place. We'll be back on the road in an hour."

"Brian Reed, huh? You mind telling me how you boys know Brian?"

Sam saw the tension leave his brother's body and he took a deep breath. "We've visited this town before. My brother's done some work for Brian." Sam gestured toward Dean hoping he would remain cool. He shouldn't have worried. Dean was leaning slightly back on his heels, his hands resting at his sides, his expression calm.

"You know anyone else here in town? Anyone that would vouch for you?"

"Brian would—"

The officer interrupted Sam, "That's all well and good buddy boy, but Brian's away on a hunting trip. So, like I said can you give me any other reason not to haul you two down to the station until we sort this out?"

"We're friends of Sara Powers."

Sam's jaw nearly hit the ground in shock when Dean answered the man. His brother had done the unthinkable.

"Sara, now, you wouldn't be trying to put one over on me would you? Cause I'm gonna be checking your story and I wouldn't want to find out I called that poor woman and woke her up for no reason."

Dean waved a hand gesturing toward the squad car and said, "Have at it, the name's Winters."

As soon as the officer backed toward his squad car, Sam sidestepped closer to his brother. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, come on, Sam. What else can we do? We're stuck here if Brian's away. What'd you wanna do, escape this guy and then take a bus out of town, leaving my car and all of our weapons parked in the lot of the local diner? We're better off just facing Sara." Dean shifted uneasily before he muttered, "At least I hope we are."

"Alright boys, in you go. I spoke with Sara and she's gonna claim you." The police officer opened the rear door of the cruiser and gestured toward the car. "I was feeling gallant so I offered to drop you off, that way the poor little thing doesn't have to wake up those kids of her's."

"Shit," Sam breathed as he followed his brother toward the car.


	4. Chapter 4

She stood in the yawning mouth of the garage, arms folded, one foot tapping out an impatient staccato on the concrete floor. By her side lay Jack, his massive head propped up on her other foot. The outside light just barely penetrated the interior of the garage, leaving her face obscured by shadows. As the cruiser made its way down the drive, the dog sat up, his nose level with Sara's hip.

Dean found it easier to concentrate on Jack than to allow his eyes to try to penetrate the darkness for a glimpse of her features. He would have to face her soon enough and it was in his own self-interest that he delay that moment as long as he could. Facing Sara would be the death of him, of that he had no doubt. No demon, vampire, poltergeist, or werewolf could demand as much courage from him as these next few moments would require.

His only reprieve was the late hour. He could lay claim to exhaustion, flee to his bedroom and prolong the moment in which he'd have to pretend. It was weak as far as plans went but it was all that was left to him now. Hopefully, if given enough time he'd be able to shore up his emotions behind the wall that had served him so well in the past.

"You boys wait here."

The officer's voice broke through his reverie. While he'd been concentrating on finding a way to survive the next couple of hours the officer had parked the squad car in front of the garage door. As the older man climbed from the front seat, Dean, his eyes carefully averted, told his brother, "Make sure you don't leave any prints."

"I haven't touched a thing," Sam replied his gaze focused on the officer and Sara.

"Good, last thing we need is to leave our prints in a cop car."

"Dean?"

Dean wanted to rant and scream at his brother's tone of voice. "Don't, Sam. We didn't have a choice. All we can do now is try and pretend everything's okay."

"It's just I didn't want to mention it earlier but-"

"I know, Sam, about the boyfriend. I heard about it already." Dean didn't have to see his brother's expression to know what he looked like. The silence in the car rang with Sam's pity. "I said don't,Sam. It's her right, I left her. I was the one that told her to find a father for her children." Dean swallowed hard his eyes focused resolutely out the window. "Just don't."

Dean could tell that his brother longed to argue, to put those years of pre-law to use. He knew the only thing that stopped Sam's words was that he knew Dean was right. You could sugarcoat it any way you liked but when it came right down to it, a hunter's life just couldn't include a family.

"I'm sorry we're in this mess," Sam said, his tone of voice full of remorse.

"It's not like it's your fault, psychic boy. Not even you could have predicted that the car would be vandalized."

Sam let out a hoarse laugh that sounded a bit hysterical to Dean. Taking a closer look at his brother, he acknowledged that this wasn't going to be just hard on him. "I'm sorry, Sam. I know how much you miss them."

"Don't apologize, Dean. You're my brother and where you go, I go. That's all that matters."

888

Sara sat in front of the blue screen reading back what she'd written yesterday. She had to admit it was good. There were just certain days when she found the ideas were rolling faster than she could type them and yesterday had been one of them. If there was anything to be said about her insomnia it was that at least when she died of sleep deprivation her children wouldn't lack for money. In the last six months she'd been more productive than ever.

It seemed that the nightmares and anxieties that drove away her ability to sleep were the same things that fed her creativity. Sara gave a wry laugh, not that she wouldn't trade in her newfound productivity for a good nights sleep. The sad thing was that up until about a month ago, she'd convinced herself that she could manage to be a functioning part of society with only three or four hours a night. Lately, however, the lack of sleep finally seemed to be catching up with her. In fact, her work was the only area of her life where she truly felt in control. Everything else seemed to be spiraling out of her grasp.

A dull ache had taken up residence behind her eyes and it seemed to throb in time with her every heartbeat. She knew even the children were starting to sense that all wasn't right, especially Michael. Her middle child seemed most sensitive to her moods. It made perfect sense seeing as he was a tiny male replica of herself. He'd become clingy and edgy his moods more erratic by the day. Never far from her side now he'd become her constant shadow.

She had only recently become aware of the change in Mike's behavior after his teacher had mentioned his recent decline in interest at school. The elder lady's words had been like a bucket of cold water thrown in her face. All of the sudden she'd found herself awake and aware for the first time in over a month. Sara was still having trouble forgiving herself for letting things get so out of hand. Tonight had been the start of her new regime. Instead of allowing herself to hide behind the fog that had so recently invaded her life she had pushed past it. The results were instant. Michael had spent the night glowing from her extra attention. Jim's smile hadn't slipped once and Jess had laughed more than Sara could remember her laughing in quite a long time. Now all Sara had to do was to maintain her focus.

She could do it, she was sure. Twice now her life had come to an end and she had managed to live through it. A heart could break and yet still beat, Sara was living proof of that. The jagged pain she could ignore, it was the insidious fog that kept trying to slip through her defenses that she needed to watch out for. It was the fog that would steal her family from her if she wasn't careful. Sara had lost enough in her life, she didn't intend to lose anymore.

With a glance toward the clock, Sara readied herself to begin writing. She preferred to wear headphones while at the computer. It allowed her to concentrate better and kept the kids from being disturbed. Just as she reached to pick up the ear buds, the phone rang making her yelp in surprise. With her heart lodged in her throat she scrambled to pick up the receiver before the noise would wake the household. One look at the caller ID had instant tears in her eyes. The Quakertown police department wouldn't be calling at three in the morning for anything less than a catastrophe.

"Hello," she said, her voice trembling with fear.

"Hey there, Sara. This is Craig Carter."

Craig Carter was a second cousin of her late husband. Even after Jake had died they had stayed in touch. The older man had always treated her well and still acted as if she were family despite Jake's death. "What's wrong, Craig?"

"Nothing, darling, nothing at all. It's just I've got a couple of young men here who claim they know you. I wouldn't have bothered you except if they're on the up and up I wouldn't want to harass any friend of yours."

"I don't know...I mean who is it?" The lump in Sara's throat grew, if that was possible, as she contemplated the only 'men' who would claim to know her.

"Does the name Winters mean anything to you?"

For one split second in the interest of self-preservation Sara nearly answered 'no'. In saying yes she would be opening herself up to a pain that had taken six months just to gain control of. Acknowledging the boys would be akin to suicide, simply because she would not survive losing him again.

It was a promise made long ago that overrode her instincts and caused her to say, "Yeah, I know them. What happened?" She had made a promise to him and she would not break it for anything, even her own survival.

"Well, according to them, someone did a number on their car, leaving them stranded. I picked them up as they were walking through town."

Sara leaned forward the phone pressed against her ear and rested her forehead on the palm of her hand. "Just...a...bring them here."

"Honey, you okay? You sound like you're getting a cold."

Sara cleared her throat and put more effort into her words, "Naw, I'm good. I'd appreciate it if you'd just give them a lift out here. I can help them work out the car in the morning."

"Long as you're sure, Sara."

Sara forced herself to answer, "I'm sure."

"Will do then, I'll be by in a bit."

"Thanks, Craig"

With a trembling hand, Sara hit the end button on the receiver and dropped the phone onto her desk. No longer able to hold herself upright she slid to the floor in a boneless heap. Lying on her side, with her knees drawn to her chest, Sara did something she hadn't done since the day he'd walked away from her. She cried, not the single tear that seemed to slip out no matter how vigilant she was, but huge, gasping sobs that tore her throat and stole her breath.

888

Sara stepped out into the cool confines of the garage and hit the door opener. As the big door slid open, she couldn't help but smile as Jack darted out into the early morning air. In the dark the huge dog seemed little more than a blur of white darting too and from as he examined every little smell. Despite the winter coat she'd grabbed and her own arms wrapped tightly around her, Sara still couldn't stop the shivers that continued to wrack her body long after she'd cried all her tears. She was only waiting about five minutes when a car turned into her drive. Without instruction from her, Jack returned to her side. The big dog, perhaps sensing her unease, pushed himself as close as he could to her before dropping to the ground with a thump, his big head coming to rest on her sneaker.

As the cruiser made its way toward the house, Sara felt as if she was going to fly apart. At last unable to hold still she began tapping her foot in time with the beating of her heart. At last the police car parked, the lights were dosed and the driver-side door was opened. She found herself cursing as she watched Craig step from the car. He knew her too well, she was afraid he would note her nervousness and take it as a sign something was wrong. Sara had spent too much of her time ensuring that no one realized just how bad things had gotten and she didn't want to start rumors now.

Determined to play her part, Sara smiled at Craig and waited for him to approach. As the older man enfolded her in a bone-crushing hug, she found herself studying the car hoping for even the smallest glimpse of the passengers she knew waited inside. "You didn't toss them out did you?"

Craig grinned and gestured over his shoulder. "Naw, they're in there as promised. I just wanted to make sure this is okay. There's...well there's something about these two. I'm just not sure I should leave them here with you when you're all alone."

Sara found that this time she didn't have to fake her smile. "You have nothing to be worried about. They're good friends."

Craig watched her a moment before he finally nodded. "If you're sure then," he said as he headed for the car.

Sara suddenly couldn't watch. After six of the longest months in her life she couldn't stand the thought of meeting him once more face to face let alone with the current audience. Sam was bad enough, but for her to break down in front of Craig would be more than her battered pride could take. Looking up, she spotted the bright orange full moon, taking comfort in it's familiarity she slowly willed the tension from her limbs.

Finally, she felt confident enough to look up. Her first thought as she watched Sam step out from the vehicle, a duffle bag in his hand, was that the younger Winchester had aged. Nothing specific jumped out at her, he just seemed somehow more mature than he had when he left. His ready smile hadn't changed a bit, though, and Sara found herself returning it in full measure.

Without conscious thought, Sara launched herself at Sam with a cry of joy. As his strong arms enfolded her in a tight squeeze, Sara shut her eyes and concentrated on enjoying this moment. Pressed against his chest, she breathed in the scent that was unique to Sam. "Sam," she breathed unable to say anything else.

That one word triggered a slight sob that she struggled to suppress as quickly as it made an appearance. Sam being Sam, he seemed to understand just what she was going through. He continued to hold her tight, his arms like bands of steel. At long last, he brushed a kiss over the top of her head and eased back from her.

It was then that Sara noticed Jack's mixture of growls and whines. Avoiding Sam's probing gaze, she released her death grip on him and turned to find her dog making an absolute fool of himself. Gone was the powerhouse threat that she'd raised. In his place was a whining mass of blubbering dog. It was a testament to Dean's sense of balance and his strength that he hadn't gone down yet. Jack was using his huge square head to push Dean repeatedly. That combined with the way his giant paws kept trying to hook around Dean's feet made the hunter's balance precarious to say the least.

Dean finally stopped trying to move forward and looked up at Sara. As she at last looked into his familiar face, she felt her heart clench. So powerful was the feeling she almost cried out. In the last six months Dean had changed, and yet remained so familiar that she longed to launch herself at him as she had Sam. His normally short sandy color hair was a bit longer on top and at the moment it stuck up in spikes as if he'd been repeatedly running his fingers through it. Given that the man, who was wanted by the law, had just climbed out of a squad car, she had no doubt he had been. Another change she noted was his face. No longer did he sport five o'clock shadow. Somewhere along the way he must have given up shaving altogether. The sandy colored beard he now sported only served to emphasize his beautiful eyes and drew even more attention to his full bottom lip. He looked thinner also, which worried her, and his eyes were heavily shadowed with fatigue. Sara could only hope it was simply a long hunt that had given him such a worn look and not something more serious.

Hope was something that regularly passed over the Winchester brothers so Sara cautioned herself for the worst. The idea that Dean might be missing her and thus was losing sleep over his decision never occurred to Sara. How could it when she'd readily accepted that she was in no way enough for the man that now avoided meeting her gaze.

"Hey, Dean," Sara spoke softly and mainly for Craig's benefit as the seasoned lawman seemed to be watching her for a reaction.

Dean still trying to keep his feet nodded and with a resigned sigh sank to the ground. The moment he did, Jack dropped down beside him and proceeded to wiggle his mass onto Dean's lap. It was only once the dog was certain he was as close as he could get that he dropped his head with a heavy sigh against the hunter's chest. With a sigh loud enough to be heard by all, Jack closed his eyes and was still. Sara found she couldn't blame the animal, in fact, his behavior suggested to her that Jack's intelligence far outweighed her own as he was in the exact position she wished she could be.

"Well, I guess I can relax about leaving these two with you now. That dog's keener than a hound on a rabbit when it comes to detecting trouble." Jack let out another sigh and buried his head in Dean's armpit. "I'm gonna head out. I'm on duty till six a.m. boys I'll be sure to cruise on by that car of yours every now and again and make sure nothing else happens to it."

"Appreciate it, officer," Sam said as he raised a hand in thank you to the older man.

"Bye, Craig, and thanks again." As Craig climbed into the car and proceeded to turn around, Sara found herself suddenly uncomfortable with the idea that she was about to be alone with the brothers. Well if she were honest she would admit it wasn't Sam that unnerved her. "Come on inside boys, you both look beat."

Not bothering to see if they followed, Sara headed into the garage and continued into the house. She only paused as she stepped inside. A moment later Sam stepped in behind her his head nearly brushing the door frame, it was funny she had forgotten just how tall he was. His height was something that you just didn't seem to notice after a while. It was only at times like these when she hadn't seem him in a while that she realized just how large and powerful he really was. Unable to stop the silly grin that teased the corners of her mouth Sara nodded toward the spare bedroom. "Room's ready, you guys must be exhausted..." here Sara fumbled a bit as she saw Dean step up behind his brother. Shaking off her sudden bout of nerves she continued, "you know where everything is, just help yourselves to whatever you need."

Dean nodded, his gaze settling slightly to her left, "We won't get in your way. We ran into a little trouble with the car, but it's nothing we shouldn't be able to get straightened out."

Sara nodded, careful to keep her focus on Sam. "Like I said, whatever you need." Sara turned to leave but at the last moment hesitated. With her back to both men she said, "The kids don't know that you're here. If your plan is to leave town right away I'd ask that you keep it that way. The keys to the jeep are on the hook, you can just leave it in town at the hotel. If you're planning on staying for a visit, breakfast will be ready in the morning." Not wanting to hear the answer, Sara left, her long strides carrying her through the dining room and into the living room.


	5. Chapter 5

"She doesn't look good," Sam commented as he pulled a clean shirt from his bag.

Dean refused to look up at his brother, but didn't ignore his statement. "No, she doesn't. Don't forget to put the weapons up high, I'm sure Jess can open closet doors by now."

Sam dropped to his bed and rested his elbows on his knees. "Do you think? God, it's hard to believe how much she must have grown since we last saw her."

"Don't, Sam. Just don't. I did what I did to protect those kids as much as Sara. I won't back down now. We'll catch an hour of sleep and be on our way before the kids even realize we were here."

Dean resolutely ignored the look of pain that graced his brother's features. Ignoring the stab of guilt that hit him square in the chest, Dean moved toward his bed. He'd been surprised to say the least that Sara hadn't changed the room at all. It looked the same as it had the day he'd walked out except for one thing. The snapshot he'd had of himself and Sara lying in the hammock in the back yard was gone. Sam had snapped the pictured one lazy Sunday afternoon. Once he'd decided to leave he'd removed the picture from his wallet and had left in tucked into the mirror frame. It was gone now, and honestly, Dean wasn't sure what to make of that.

He dropped down on his bed and stretched out on his back, his bootless feet crossed at the ankles. He'd thought long and hard about what he needed to do to make this right and the only thing he'd come up with was to leave just as soon as humanly possible. Even if Brian were on vacation, he and Sam would use Sara's jeep for the time being and hide out at the hotel. At least then he wouldn't involve the kids in his mistake. With a plan of action to follow, Dean rolled on to his side, his hand automatically slipping beneath his pillow. "Just get some sleep, Sam, we'll be out of here before you know it."

888

One minute Dean was asleep, his hand resting lightly against his knife, and the next he was standing up blinking in confusion. The early morning light that shined through the windows let him know that he'd only been asleep maybe an hour and a half. Sam was blinking groggily, his hair sticking up at all angles.

"What's going on, Dean? What's with Jack?"

That's when it registered that the noise that had awoken him had been Jack. The dog was going bezerk, his barking had reached new heights, and he was apparently throwing himself against something. Dean didn't bother with his boots but grabbed his knife. He'd secured his gun in his duffle bag and had placed it in the closet for safety's sake but now he regretted the action. As he darted out of the bedroom and into the dining room, the noise increased. He was making his way toward the living room when he saw Jimmy dart down the stairs, his intention clearly the front door. Without thinking, Dean launched himself toward the boy, grabbing him just as Jim managed to get the door open.

Jack, seeing the opening, began to earnestly claw at the door. Afraid that the dog was about to claw his way through the door, Dean just about tossed Jim to Sam and grabbed Jack by the collar. Arms straining, Dean planted his feet and began to pull Jack from the doorway. Step by step he worked to force the one hundred and eighty pound dog away. Problem was every time he thought Jack had relented a bit he would ease up only to have the animal lunge again. Dean knew the dog was choking from the pressure on its throat but it still continued to snarl and snap.

If it weren't for the fact that Jack's rage was directed at the front door Dean would have thought the animal had gone crazy. It was then that Mike leapt between the dog and the door. It was as if someone flipped a switch in Jack's head. One minute it was all Dean could do to keep him from charging the door and then he just stopped. Dean could feel the strain in his forearms from the effort he'd put into holding the dog and he wondered just what he could have done if the dog hadn't stopped.

"Jack, behave," Michael scolded his small thin arms wrapping around the dog in a big hug. "You know Mom said you'd have to stay locked up if you didn't behave."

The dog, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth, rolled his eyes at Mike and whined a bit. Just like that Jack dropped to the ground in a heap. The only sign of his earlier rage was the slight growl that still rumbled deep in his chest. Dean didn't have a chance to wonder about the animal's behavior for long. One moment he was trying to catch his breath and the next Michael had let loose a squeal of delight and was throwing himself at Dean.

Michael's arms wrapped around Dean's neck in an embrace tight enough to choke him, Dean couldn't care less as he lifted the seven year old off the ground with a growl.

"What the hell are you doing to that child?"

At the sound of the voice, working on pure instinct alone, Dean swung Michael to his side, using his own body to shield Sara's son. "Who the hell are you?" Dean snapped as he felt Sam step up beside him.

The man that had pushed open the front door stood in the entry. He was tall, closer to Sam in height than Dean. His hair was dark with just the lightest bit of silver threaded through the sides, his eyes were very pale blue and his features were pulled down in a frown. "Put that child down," the man's voice brooked no argument and he took a step forward.

Jack's low growl grew, the dog gained his feet once more, his gaze locked on the man that had entered the house.

Dean shifted Mike slightly ensuring his right hand was free and shifted his glance toward Sam. Jimmy stood at Sam's side his arm locked around his brother's waist. Dean's attention focused once more on the intruder. "Listen, pal, I don't know who the hell you are, but I'm not the one that just walked unannounced into someone's house."

"That's Greg," Mike whispered in Dean's ear.

Greg, great thought Dean, not only did the kids now know they were here but he had to witness the man that Sara was dating walking into her house 6:30 in the morning. Really, though Winchester luck was never good, Dean could usually count on it being a bit better than this. "Greg, huh?" Dean said as he gave Mike one last squeeze and released him. "Hey, kiddo, why don't you take Jack back to our room and shut him in. He doesn't seem too happy."

"K, come on, Jack," Michael said as he grabbed the dog by his collar.

"Michael, I don't think you should be touching that dog. He seems upset," Greg said as he stepped closer to Jack obviously intending to interfere.

"I wouldn't do that unless you wanna lose a hand, Jack's obviously not a big fan of yours," Sam piped up.

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother's honesty. If it had been left up to him, the dog would have been welcome to take a chuck out of the bastard's hand. "Jim run upstairs and let your mom know you've got company."

Jim obeyed instantly stopping only long enough to wrap his arms around Dean's waist for a quick hug. Dean squeezed the boy in return and ruffled his hair. "Go on now."

Though Greg looked relaxed his eyes never left Michael as the boy physically drug Jack out of the room. It was a testament to Jack's love and loyalty that he went with him. Dean didn't understand, Sara had trained Jack well and Dean had never seen the animal so upset over someone he'd already been introduced to.

Dean felt his brother shift closer, Sam's shoulder was nearly touching his own now. Dean knew it was Sam's way of backing him up and if he were honest, he could use the support. He had expected to be long gone by now, not standing in Sara's living room entertaining her new boyfriend.

"So, Sara, doesn't care that you walk right in?" Dean asked, trying his best to sound normal.

Greg was about to answer when a pair of feet came flying down the stairs. At the sight of the tiny, bright purple, slippered, feet scrambling down the stairs, Dean moved forward. He knew Jess was moving too fast to stop herself but he was too far away to do anything about it. Just as she came fully into view, the inevitable happened and she tripped.

Greg, closest to the stairs, was the one that snagged the little girl out of the air. Wrapped securely in his arms, Jessie proceeded to let loose a cry that resembled the yowl of a cat being stepped on. Greg seemed surprised when Jess began to beat her feet against him, her cries of protest growing in volume. At last, the bewildered man gave up trying to calm her and released her.

In a flash Jess was across the room, her face red, her nose snotty, her breath hitching in her chest she threw herself against Dean. He never hesitated. Up and into his arms he pulled her. As her tiny arms wrapped tight around his neck she continued to sob. Though Dean considered himself close to all three of Sara's children, Jess had always held a special place in his heart. As different from her mother in appearance as it was possible to be, Jess, nonetheless, was Sara's exact copy. Their shared traits included everything from the way they both regarded the world with equal amounts of suspicion and wonder, to their sensitivity to others and their needs. Watching Jess grow up was like catching a glimpse into Sara's past.

If he allowed himself to consider, for even a minute, everything he'd missed in the last six months his heart would break. Instead, he turned his back on Greg, trusting Sam to keep watch and moved toward the living room fireplace, his big hand making soothing circles on the little girls back. "Shhh, I got ya, Sweet."

Jess's noises ceased to sound so much like cries and began to resemble words. Dean was suddenly glad he was fluent in 'Jessiespeak' as she began to babble. "Dee, you were gone." Seemed to be the complaint she voiced most often. It was also the one that pierced Dean's heart every time he heard it.

Unable to do much else, Dean put his lips to the little one's ear and whispered, "I'm sorry, honey."

Jess released her stranglehold a bit and pulled back, staring into Dean's green eyed gaze. Finally, she leaned forward and whispered into his ear, "That's k."

Like that the tears ended, the only sign she'd ever been upset was her snotty nose. Out of the blue a handkerchief was handed over Dean's shoulder. As he accepted the clean cloth from his brother, he worked on gaining his composure back. He gently began to wipe the little girls face as he listened for Sara. After all the racket they'd made he couldn't believe she hadn't thundered down the stairs with a loaded weapon in hand.

"Dean," Sam said, as he reached out to grab Jess from him.

Dean relinquished the babe with a kiss to the top of her head and turned toward the stairs. Jim stood there, a slightly panicked air about him. "Mom's not in her room."

"No, worries, buddy. Go check the bulletin board in the kitchen. If she left to run an errand, it'll be on the board." Ignoring the man that still stood by the base of the stairs, Dean exchanged glances with Sam before he moved toward the steps. He knew Sara would never have left without letting the Winchesters know, especially when she was unsure of how long they'd be staying. As he put his foot on the riser a hand snaked out and held him tight.

"Who are you, and what gives you the right to search Sara's home?" Greg's tone implied that he knew perfectly well who Dean was but he wanted to hear it from the elder Winchester.

"Who I am is none of your business. In fact," here Dean threw off the hand that held him, "why don't you just get gone. Sara'll call you later."

"So what you just waltz back in here and I'm supposed to roll-over?" Greg's tone suggested he had no intention of letting that happen.

Dean stood, his back to the stranger and gritted his teeth. What he wanted to do was to turn and throw a punch at the man that was forcing his hand. What he should do was pack up Sammy and get gone. Torn between the two, Dean shelved the issue and continued up the stairs. As he made his way up he strained his hearing trying to figure out of Greg was bold enough to follow. Instead of hearing Greg he heard his brother say, "Hey, Mike why don't you let Jack out?"

Dean had to grin, apparently, Sam wasn't all too happy about the stranger that was obviously interested in something more than Sara's friendship. Jack's loud growls filled the room below once more ensuring that Greg wouldn't be breeching the second floor. As Dean approached Sara's open bedroom door he found himself hoping beyond hope that she was in the shower and Jim just hadn't thought to check.

Thoughts of Sara in Gordon Walker's hands filled Dean's head as he searched the bedroom and found nothing out of place. As he glanced at her bed, he noticed she had gotten a new bedspread. He found his mind skittered away from what might have made her want to change bedding they'd slept in together.

Dean stepped up to Sara's adjoining bathroom and knocked on the closed door. Unable to hear the shower, he stood undecided. He hadn't even planned on still being here, and now, he was about to barge in on her. Drawing a deep breath, he swallowed hard and entered the room. Sara's bathroom was tiny to say the least. There was barely room for the toilet, sink with a cabinet underneath and the shower stall that took up one full wall.

Relief flooded through him as he heard the sound of the shower. Content that she was okay and simply hadn't heard the racket, Dean began to back out of the room. He stopped dead in his tracks when he realized the hazy figure he could see through the frosted glass was slumped on the shower floor. "Sara?" he called. Fear clenched his chest when his call produced no reaction.

In a heartbeat, Dean stepped forward and rapped his hand on the glass door trying to summon a reaction from the woman inside. All he could imagine was that she had somehow fallen and bumped her head. At the sound of his knock Sara, literally, jumped a mile.

"Shit," she cried out as she rolled back one side of the shower door and poked her head through.

Her cry perfectly echoed Dean's own sentiment. Dean held up his hands in surrender and pasted a somewhat weak smile on his face. "Whoa, Sara, sorry I called out but you didn't answer", Dean said, figuring in this case the best defense was a good offense.

"I…I guess I didn't hear you. What are you doing up?" Sara asked her voice still breathless from her fright.

Dean ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stand on edge. A glance around the bathroom showed him a towel sitting on the edge of the counter top. For his own self-preservation, he reached out, snagged the towel, and passed it to Sara.

Trying to gather his now splintered thoughts, Dean turned his back on her as she began toweling off. Though the door was nearly opaque, her outline was more temptation than he needed. "Everybody's up."

"The kids are awake, what time is it?" Sara asked.

"About seven, Jack woke everyone up," Dean answered as he reached out and grabbed her thick, white, terry-cloth robe that hung on the back of the bathroom door. "You've got company," he said as held out the robe to her.

"Company?" she asked the surprise in her voice to genuine to be contrived.

The flash of her slender arm and her smooth shoulder as she leaned out to accept the robe from him was enough to make Dean lose his train of thought again. "Huh?"

"Who's here?" Sara asked enunciating each word as she slid the shower door wide open.

Dean couldn't take his eyes off her as she stepped out of the shower and faced him. Last night in the dim light, he'd noticed a slight change in her appearance, but here, now, in the harsh light of the bathroom the changes were tenfold.

Sara was a woman that loved the outdoors, gardening, lawn work, playing with her kids and simply sunbathing were pastimes she loved and did often. Normally, her skin reflected that love in the form of a year round tan. Not now, though, now, every bit of color seemed leached out of her skin. All except the dark bruise-like shadows that encircled her eyes. Her cheekbones appeared more defined and the vee of her bathrobe allowed him to see that her collarbone was more pronounced than ever.

Hating that he might be the cause of these changes, Dean dropped his eyes and shrugged, "Some older guy, named Greg." As Sara's eyes fogged over in confusion, Dean made a break for the bathroom door. Just before he left, he blurted out, "I'm sorry, Sara, I wasn't planning on staying, but Jack was going nuts."

"Greg's here?" Sara asked it was obvious she was still struggling to catch up to the conversation.

Dean said not a word, just nodded and left.

888

As she watched Dean walk out of the bathroom, Sara struggled to figure out what was going on. The appearance of Dean in her bathroom had left her out of sorts to say the least. As an added bonus, she had no clue as to why Greg might be here, especially so early. Still fighting confusion, Sara headed out to her bedroom expecting to find it empty. Instead, Dean stood at the doorway, facing out into the hall, his back to her. When she entered the room he asked, "Do you need Sam and I to leave?"

Sara schooled her emotions, carefully, before she allowed herself to answer. "You're always welcome here." The scary thing was, despite the ravages his leaving had left on her world, she meant it.

Dean didn't acknowledge her, he just left, shutting the door softly behind him. Suddenly, Sara couldn't dress fast enough. Ripping through her closet, she kept an ear out for anything signifying the two men that were now in her living room were coming to blows.

Not that either one was interested in her that way. Dean had made it clear he no longer wanted her, and she was fairly certain after seeing her in the harsh light of the bathroom he hadn't changed his mind. Greg had also made it known that he was only interested in friendship. So really, there was nothing to worry about. These reassurances didn't stop Sara from throwing on a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt and running a quick brush through her hair. Still barefoot, she darted out of the room and down the hallway in record time.

Down the steps she went, slowing once she neared the bottom. Noting the empty living room, she headed for the kitchen. A pang of homesickness shot through her at the smell of fresh made coffee. It had been over six months since she'd awoken to that smell. It seemed a lifetime had passed since she'd been anything other than a mom.

Impatient with her own weakness, Sara ran her hands under her eyes wiping away any signs of her upset and stepped into the kitchen. It took only a minute to realize that things were even worse off than she'd thought.

Greg stood by the doorway one shoulder leaning against the wall. He seemed completely at ease except for the tiny muscle in his jaw that jumped uncontrollably. Dean stood near the window sipping from a coffee cup. Jess rested on Dean's hip and he seemed to be listening to her intently. Sara would have been a lot more willing to believe Dean's nonchalance pose if it wasn't for the fact that Sam stood right next to him. Sara had learned long ago that the brothers' body language, in regards to each other, conveyed a wide range of emotions. Only problem was, Sara wasn't sure if Sam was offering comfort or if the younger man was by his brother's side to stop Dean from doing something stupid.

The tableau was finished off with Jimmy sitting at the table drinking a glass of juice and chatting away to the Winchesters, while Mike lay on the floor near Jack, stroking the big dog's head. Jack was another male in her life that seemed content but she knew better. He was more likely just waiting for an excuse to rip into Greg.

Sara was unsure of the cause, but for some reason Greg and Jack just didn't hit it off. She thought it might be the fact that Greg wasn't overly fond of the dog. Jack was too hairy and slobbery for Greg and the Saint Bernard's size seemed to make him nervous. Jack, in return, seemed to go out of his way to be nasty to the older man.

Judy, Sara's mother-in-law, had introduced her to Greg about three months ago. At first, Sara, sure that Judy was trying to fix her up with the handsome man, had kept her distance. It was only as she continued to run into him around town that she came to actually enjoy his company. He seemed to be genuinely interested in her children and he never pushed for anything approaching a romantic relationship. New to the area, Greg had asked Sara to act as a tour guide for him. She'd happily accepted knowing that time spent with him was less time she had to contemplate the black hole in her life that Dean's loss had created.

However, lately she had to admit she was a bit thrown off by his sudden boldness. Though he professed otherwise it seemed as if he were in fact looking for more than friendship. So far Sara had ignored his advances. She was confident that if she relegated him to the role of friend, he would eventually accept it and look for romance elsewhere. Now when faced with him in her kitchen at seven o'clock in the morning she found her confidence wavering. Not bothering to hide her annoyance she asked, "Greg, what are you doing here?"

888

Sam stood shoulder to shoulder with Dean absentmindedly answering Jimmy's questions. Earlier, as his brother had gone upstairs to fetch Sara, Sam had been surprised to find that Greg was confident enough in his relationship with Sara to boldly step after his brother. On impulse, Sam had found himself calling out to Mike to let Jack loose. Like a bullet, the dog had shot from the back corner of the house to plant himself in front of the stairs and Greg, with a low growl. Sam didn't bother to hide his grin. Turning from the handsome man, he'd headed for the kitchen to make some coffee.

Sam, with Jess still holding him tight, had been pouring Jim a drink when Dean had returned from the upstairs. His brother's overly casual, "She was in the shower," did nothing to hide Dean's anxiety from Sam. Greg, however, seemed to buy it with no problem, if the man's red-hot glare was any indication. Sam had given Jess over to Dean and had made himself a cup of coffee before settling beside him to wait.

Now, as he watched Sara enter the kitchen, Sam understood just why his brother was so upset. Sara was nothing but a pale comparison of what she once was. Too skinny, too pale and obviously overtired, the normally beautiful mother of three looked older than her years.

"Greg, what are you doing here?"

As she spoke, Sam noticed her voice sounded a bit rougher than normal. He found himself wondering if she was sick or if it was stress from the current situation that was causing the roughness. Sam watched the interaction between Sara and the stranger carefully, hoping that her question would cause him a bit of embarrassment, but the man answered confidently.

"I thought we were bike riding today?" he answered taking a step closer to Sara.

A flicker of a smile crossed Dean's face as Jack let loose a threatening growl. Greg stepped back with a nervous glance toward the animal.

"Knock it off, Jack," Dean said a hint of laughter in his voice as he turned to Sam and handed Jessie to him. "Here, Jess, I'm gonna make Mom some coffee, Sam'll hold you."

Jess held her arms out to Sam with a grin and automatically asked, "Panicakes, Sam?"

"Please," Mike, echoed as he jumped up from Jack's side.

The moment Michael moved away from Jack, the dog gained his feet and began growling in earnest, his dark brown eyes focused on Greg. Sam really couldn't fathom just why, the normally placid, Jack was upset, but the animal's fierceness set his nerves on fire. Catching Dean's eye, Sam was glad to see that he was taking Jack's dislike seriously. At his brother's slight nod, Sam turned toward the kids and said, "Pancakes it is."

The chorus of "yay's" that greeted his statement made the house feel like home for the first time since they arrived. Sam pulled out a chair at the table and dropped Jess in the seat, with a wave of his hand he said, "Out of here, boys. I can't have you learning my secret recipe."

Both boys grumbled good naturedly as they skipped out of the room. As they filed out, Jack made as if to follow them only to stop at the last second to stare back at Greg. Sam's unease grew at the dog's obvious reluctance to let the man out of his sight. Dean's low, "Go, Jack," seemed to be enough for the animal.

The level of noise went down considerably as the boys and the dog filed out. Sam set about gathering the necessary ingredients, his secret being Aunt Jemima's pancake mix, and began to make breakfast. Dean, in the meantime, pulled out Sara's favorite mug, and filled it. He then opened the cabinet and retrieved the chocolate flavored creamer that Sara preferred. Sam couldn't help but notice that the more Dean fussed over the mug, the angrier Greg seemed to grow. The angrier Greg grew the more that Dean fussed. Sam wanted to laugh as he noticed that his brother's grin seemed brighter than it had in months.

"I thought you were going to call when you were ready?" Sara asked, as she accepted the cup from Dean.

Sam knew that Greg couldn't be happy with the fact that Sara looked so comfortable. She had taken a seat at the table and was now sipping her coffee while jess babbled away on her lap. In fact, if Sam ignored the stranger in the room it seemed like nothing had changed. Unfortunately, the stranger was hard to ignore.

The older man frowned and answered, "I'm sorry, I didn't think it would be a problem. I was figuring on taking you all out for breakfast before our ride. I see now that I should have called first."

Sara seemed oblivious to Greg's irritation. "We're going to have to cancel, no way are the kids going to want to go, now."

Dean's grin grew a little wider. As he reached out to grab Sara's now empty cup, he offered, "Sara, if you have plans…"

Sara shook her head as she assured Dean, "No, we'll stay home. But you can stay for breakfast if you'd like, Greg."

A snort of laughter burst from Sam as Dean's expression went from overconfident to incredulous. So deadpanned was Sara's delivery that he would have believed she was truly oblivious to the tension in the room, if she hadn't chosen that moment to tip Sam a wink. Sam couldn't help but grin, after all, the girl deserved to get a bit of revenge.


	6. Chapter 6

"So, Dean, Sam, what brings you to town?" Greg asked as they all settled at the dining room table.

Earlier, Dean had succumbed to the routine that had been his and Sara's. The familiarity of a Sunday morning spent in her kitchen had chased away his every honorable intention. Clad in only jeans and a tee shirt, his feet bare and not a weapon in place, he chatted with Sara, Sam, and the kids, drawing a smile from her face as he joked and teased. It was moments like these that screamed heaven to him in a way that halos, pearly gates, and angels never would.

Days like this drummed up vague and misty memories from a life he barely remembered. A life when Sam had slept content in his father's arms and Dean had needed a stool to reach the countertop. Here, his memories of his mother, darting around the room her infectious laugh drawing smiles from his father as she made breakfast, were strongest.

Sam had once walked away from hunting and all it involved. His brother had found happiness in denying all he was and by forging a new life for himself. It was something Dean would never understand. How Sam could ignore his every instinct was beyond him. For Dean he never found himself wanting to deny what he was. He simply wanted acceptance for it. That's why things would have never worked with Cassie. Dean had found it impossible to deny what he was and she'd been incapable of understanding it.

Sara on the other hand understood. She'd seen the worst the world had to offer and she'd forged out a life despite it. Never again would she turn a blind eye to the evil that stalked humankind and she was okay with that. She'd found a balance that his father never had. Her kids would grow strong and capable but they would also find their place in the world of light as well as the world of shadows.

For Dean she offered the very best of both worlds. He never needed to close himself off to all he was as Sam had at Stanford. Here in this room with this woman he didn't have to pretend. For once, he could be completely honest. Missing Sara had been hard enough these last six months. Missing everything that Sara represented had been nearly every bit as hard. He'd lost not only the woman he loved, and the children he loved, but also the life he loved.

"Dean?" Sara called, drawing his attention back with a snap.

Dean met her gaze and saw the concern in her eyes. Unwilling to cause her more pain, he worked to keep his words as close to the truth as possible.

"We were working in the area and ran into car trouble. I was hoping to get in touch with Brian today," Dean answered, his gaze searching Sara's as he stuck to the basics. He could see the million questions that were running through her mind, only he couldn't find the answers for them. If he told her the truth, he risked her wrath. Sara was nothing if not self-sufficient and the idea that she couldn't handle her own life and the lives of her children would not go over well. If he lied, he risked giving her the wrong idea. He didn't want her to think he was here for her. He'd made his decision and he was going to stick with it regardless of how much it hurt.

"Brian's on vacation, hunting this week," Greg answered as he played with the food on his plate.

Dean had noticed that for all the man had quickly accepted Sara's invitation to breakfast he didn't seem particularly hungry. The thought that his presence might be the cause of Greg's lack of appetite very nearly brought a smile to Dean's face. The older man's continued proprietary attitude had rubbed Dean the wrong way to say the least. It also spoke volumes about his and Sara's relationship.

Dean knew Sara from the inside out. He had no doubt that if Sara had made any kind of commitment to Greg that the other man wouldn't be bristling at Dean's appearance. It's why Dean had never minded Brian Reed's blind affection toward Sara. She had regulated the man to the boundaries of friendship and that's where he would stay regardless of his own wants. Dean pushed down his self-satisfied emotions and reminded himself that he couldn't stay. A glance toward his brother, showed that Sam was nearly as upset as he was by the idea that Brian would be gone for the week.

"There's other mechanics in town," Greg offered as he reached out to snag Michael's juice glass from falling off the edge of the table. "Careful, Michael," he warned.

The low growl from the corner of the room, reminded Dean that Jack was in his accustomed spot hoping for handouts. "No one with a flatbed, I won't tow my baby." Dean leaned back in his seat and again noticed Sam's flushed face. He really hoped his brother wasn't too upset on his behalf.

"The Impala's that bad off?" Sara asked surprise evident in her tone.

Dean nodded and said, "Someone slashed two of her tires."

"Damn, who the hell would have done that around here?" Sara asked.

"Got me, they didn't even have the decency to puncture the tread they went straight for the walls."

Sam's coughing fit nearly drowned out the end of Dean's sentence. Whacking his brother between the shoulder blades, Sara said, "Sammy, come on, Sam breathe."

Sam waved a hand, his face near purple in color, as he struggled to draw breath. Sara's hand still hovered over his back and Dean kept expecting the older woman to raise Sam's arms up over his head at any moment. Sam must have been worried as well because he croaked, "'M fine, really. Just down the wrong pipe."

Dean relaxed back in his seat, happy to avoid having to do the Heimlich on his baby brother. "Yeah, so anyway, we were hoping that Brian would be willing to tow it back to his place and order me a set of tires."

"It's his annual trip, he'll be gone at least until next Monday. Greoff's can tow it, they have a flatbed and I know Jeff Greoff pretty well from back when Jason had his shop. Why don't you have him tow the car here, at least then you can jack it up and pull the tires," Sara offered her gaze still focused on Sam.

As much as Dean wanted to take Sara up on her offer of hospitality he knew it would only complicate things. He was just about ready to say no when Greg spoke up.

"Sara, I'm sure these guys have places to be. They can't just spend a week waiting around till Brian gets back," Greg's voice made it clear that he expected Dean to jump on his words.

Dean very nearly did, in fact if Greg hadn't chosen that moment to reach out and brush his hand against Sara's he probably would have. Instead the gesture made him see red. "We've got no where to be. We'll call Greoff's and have them tow it here."

"Yay!!!"

Dean had just picked up his coffee for a sip when the cry echoed through the room. Jim and Mike let loose matching cries and jumped up from their seats. Mike made for Sam and Jim wrapped himself around Dean. Dean drew the older boy onto his lap, hiding his urge to cry, and hugged Jimmy tight. "We missed you guys too," Dean assured him as he held tight to the boy.

"Jim, you and Mike go get dressed. I'm sure Dean's gonna wanna be there when the truck picks up the Chevy, you guys can go with him," Sara said as she began gathering up the breakfast dishes. Though he could hear the upset in Sara's voice her eyes were dry.

Sam stood to help her and was waved down for his efforts. "You guys made breakfast, I've got the cleanup."

At her words Greg stood and began to help her clear the table. Dean had just finished his last cup of coffee when the clatter of feet alerted him to the fact that the boys were back.

"We're ready," Jim said as he took a knee next to his brother and began tying Michael's shoe.

"I ready."

Dean turned toward Jess and grinned. The little girl had insisted on sitting right next to him and Dean had found himself more than happy to humor her. "You're not even dressed yet, babe."

At his words, tears pooled in Jess's big blue eyes and proceeded to slip over the edge of her lashes. "I go, please. I go, Dee." Dean looked toward Sara before answering. She rolled her eyes at him and shrugged which he took to mean it was up to him.

"You can come if I can borrow Mom's van," Dean assured the little girl. Like magic her tears dried up and her smile threatened to split her face.

"I get dressed," she said and off she went her little legs flying.

"Let me get the number for you," Sara said as she headed into the kitchen.

888

Sara ignored the obvious anger on Greg's face and quickly got the number Dean needed. To say she was pissed with the older man was an understatement. His little attempt at herding the brothers on their way had put her back up. She wasn't used to having someone interfere in her life and she wasn't about to change. At least that's what she assured herself every time her heartbeat sped up at the thought of Dean staying for a full week.

As Dean made his phone call, Sara set about filling the dishwasher. Greg continued to clear off the table and it sounded as if Sam was helping Jessie dress. Once the table was cleared, Greg moved into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Sara, do you really think this is a good idea?" Greg asked his voice sounding a bit petulant.

"Honestly, I think it's none of your business, Greg. Sam and Dean are like family to me. They're always more than welcome here." Sara didn't allow herself to dwell on her words. She knew she was setting herself up for heartbreak but there was no way she'd admit that to Greg. It was already obvious that the handsome man hadn't been quite honest with her when he'd said he wasn't interested in her romantically.

Sara watched as Greg's expression went from annoyed to serene in a moment. "I'm sorry, Sara. You're right it's none of my business. It's just I've come to care for you and I know how upset you were when Winchester left before and I just don't want to--"

Sara raised a hand and interrupted his words, "Don't. Just don't. I owe both Dean and Sam more than you can imagine, if they need a place to stay for a couple of days it is the least that I can do for them. I'm sorry if you have a problem with that."

Greg shook his head. "No, no problem, I just want you to be happy.'

"We're going, Sara. I'm gonna meet the driver in fifteen minutes. It'll be good for the kids to learn a little about proper towing," Dean said with a look of exasperation toward his own brother.

Sara smoothed her expression and turned to face Dean, she couldn't help but wonder just how much he'd heard. Feeling better than she had in weeks, Sara smiled and said, "If you think you can handle them, they're all yours. I'm behind on my writing anyway, it'll give me a chance to get some research done."

Sam's expression perked up at the word research, but before he got a chance to say anything Dean cut in.

"No way, Sammy, if anyone needs a lesson in towing it's you," Dean said his voice brooking no argument.

Sara wasn't sure but as Dean and Sam herded the kids out of the kitchen and toward the garage she could have sworn she heard Sam mutter something like, "Never again."

Sara turned back to Greg, smiling a bit, she held the coffee pot out toward him. "How about a refill?"

888

Sam was exhausted. Between the last two hours of Dean's lectures and three kids hyperactive energy he felt as if he'd tangled with a poltergeist rather than a simple trip into town. Dean had insisted on helping the tow truck driver load up the Impala so Sam had been relegated to babysitter. Luckily for him the three kids had found the process of loading the big black Chevy to be fascinating so other than the occasional argument they'd behaved well. Once the car was on and secured to Dean's satisfaction, and really Sam should have tipped the driver more, he'd opted to drive back with the tow truck leaving Sam with the three kids and the mini-van.

The car ride back to Sara's had been nothing if not informative. Jimmy especially had let a lot slip, giving Sam a clearer picture of just how hard it was on Sara when Dean left. Sam couldn't help but worry that he'd only made things worse by ending up on Sara's front step. It really hadn't been his intention he'd simply wanted to stay in town a bit longer to ensure that everything was okay.

Once again at Sara's, Sam kept the kids out of the way while the car was rolled off the truck and he'd then helped to push it the few feet into one of the garage bays. Sam had then slipped away, anxious to avoid any more lectures and curious as to what kind of research Sara was doing. Leaving the kids with Dean, he headed into the house and into Sara's office. Though his brother wouldn't admit it, Sam knew that Dean was relieved to find Greg gone when they'd returned. Sam had to admit he was just as glad to see the older man was gone. This was their family and to see a stranger encroaching on their lives made Sam angrier than he cared to admit.

Sam stepped down the hall intent on Sara's office. As he approached he was surprised to note that he couldn't hear either typing or the music that so often accompanied Sara's writing. A glance inside the office showed that Sara wasn't in the room. Always interested in Sara's writing, she was a horror writer who specialized in the supernatural, Sam stopped to look over her notes. He was unsurprised to see her newest novel seemed to focus on a killer clown. Sam had to chuckle as he read over her research notes. Sara's fans would be surprised to learn that every one of her stories had some basis in truth. Actually, Sam thought with a shudder, they might be more than surprised.

"Sam?"

Sam turned at Dean's call and left the room. Down the hall he went and into the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, he found Dean with a cup of coffee in his hands.

"Sara writing?" Dean asked as he sipped the black brew.

Sam shook his head. "No, she's not in there."

"Huh?" Dean looked surprised by the news. He turned and left the room, heading for the living room.

Sam followed curious to see what the kids were doing. They seemed overly quiet and for the Power's kids that was always bad news. Surprisingly, when he reached the living room he found the kids were all in quiet pursuits. The boys were both happily engaged in a video game and Jess lay on the floor with a coloring book spread out in front of her and a handful of crayons at her side.

"Hey, Mike, run up stairs and see if your Mom's up there," Dean said, his gaze looking a bit worried.

Like a flash Mike was off the floor and up the stairs. Sam sent his brother a quizzical look unsure of why Dean seemed nervous. Most likely Sara was upstairs folding laundry, the one chore that seemed never ending. Dropping to the ground next to Jimmy, Sam took up Mike's controller and began to play.

Mike was back down the stairs a moment later. As he dropped to the ground once more, leaning back against Sam and taking his controller back he said, "She's asleep."

Sam met his brother's gaze in surprise. Sara wasn't the type of person to take a nap, especially when she had guests. "She was up late last night, maybe she's just catching up on some sleep," Sam offered trying to ease Dean's anxiety.

"Mom falls asleep a lot now," Jim said his gaze still focused on the TV in front of them.

"I'm sure she's just tired, kiddo. We got in pretty late last night."

Dean didn't look quite as calm as his words suggested. "Sam, you gonna be in here for awhile?" Dean asked his gaze traveling toward the ceiling.

Sam nodded and settled Mike more firmly against him. "Yeah, I was gonna challenge these guys to a game."

"Alright, well then I'm gonna go raid the garage and get my baby jacked up. Call me if you need rescuing," Dean said with a chuckle as he headed out to the garage.

888

"Sam, I'm hungry," Jim said, drawing Sam's attention from the book he held.

Placing a finger in his book to hold the page he was on, Sam looked up and found Jim standing before him. "What time is it?" he asked as he glanced down at his watch, answering his own question. He was surprised to find it was after three p.m. He'd settled Jess down for a nap over two hours ago and had then proceeded to pick up one of Sara's novels. It had taken only a couple of pages for him to become completely absorbed in the book. "You're mom's not up yet?" Sam questioned shocked that Sara seemed to still be upstairs.

Jim shrugged and said, "She's still asleep, I promised Dean I wouldn't wake her."

Sam couldn't imagine just how tired Sara had to be to sleep the day away. "Well, I'm thinking at this point we'd better wake her up or there's no way she'll sleep tonight. How about you get a snack for you and Mikey and I'll go wake your Mom."

The young boy nodded and headed for the kitchen, Sam stood and stretched while he considered if he should interrupt Dean or not. He had no doubt that his brother was probably out in the garage going over the Impala with a fine-tooth comb. Sara's husband had been a mechanic and the garage was fully equipped. It was rare that Dean ended up somewhere he could really work on the car with a full array of equipment, he was probably in heaven out there. Sam started up the stairs, there really was no reason for him to interrupt Dean and he was fairly sure it would be easier for Sara if Sam was the one to wake her.

As he entered Sara's room, he was a bit surprised by how bright the room was. The blinds hadn't been pulled and the afternoon sunshine beamed through the windows. He couldn't imagine how Sara could sleep when it was so bright out. Not wanting to startle her, Sam called out, "Sara. Sara it's getting late."

"Sara,?" Sam called again as he inched his way closer to the bed. He didn't understand, Sara was always the lightest of sleeper, hell his tread into her bedroom should have been enough to wake her. She lay facedown on her bed with not even a cover draped over her. Sam couldn't see her face, it was turned toward the wall, but he could see the rise and fall of her back. A feeling of unease crept over him as he reached out and shook Sara's shoulder.

"Sara," Sam called as he shook her once more. He was just about to yell the house down for help when Sara responded.

Her eyes flickered open and she drew in a breath. She blinked a few times before she finally seemed to realize that someone else was in the room. Again, that went against everything that Sam knew about Sara. If anything he would have expected her to be awake and aware in seconds not obviously struggling to wake.

"Sara, you okay?" Sam questioned, leaving his hand on her shoulder.

"Sam?" she croaked at last, her voice sounding rusty with sleep.

"Yeah, it's me. You've been asleep for a while, I thought you might want to get up before the sun sets," Sam joked hoping his voice sounded calmer than he felt.

Sara closed her eyes again and rolled onto her back. Throwing and arm across her eyes she groaned and asked, "What time is it?"

"After three, you've been asleep close to four hours."

That got Sara moving. "Hell, I can't believe I slept that long. I don't even remember lying down," she mumbled as she slid off the bed and brushed her fingers through her hair. "What are the kids up to?"

"The kid's are fine. Jess is sleeping and the boys are playing. Are you feeling okay?" Sam couldn't help but ask. In all his time with Sara, the only 'naps' she'd taken had involved his brother.

Sara moved toward the bedroom door. Just before she crossed the threshold she stopped, swayed slightly, and said, "I'm fine, Sam. I guess I just needed to catch up on my sleep a bit."

Sam didn't bother to reply as he watched her walk out of the room. His every instinct shouted at him that something was wrong. That the Sara he had known and the one before him now were dramatically different. Problem was, after all she'd been through could Sam really say he was surprised she'd changed. Not only had she lost the man she loved but she'd been tormented and held hostage by a madman all within a two-day span. There were bound to be some changes.

Wasn't it possible that her nap had been brought on by a feeling of security. For the first time in months she could relax knowing that her children were completely safe. Sam nodded to himself sure that he'd found his answer. After all, Sara had never trusted anyone as much as she did Dean and Sam for keeping her family safe. Who was he to begrudge her a bit of sleep.

"Sam, you'd better not be rifling through my panty drawer," Sara called as she headed toward the stairs.

Sam rolled his eyes at her words certain now that Sara had spent too much time in his brother's company.


	7. Chapter 7

"You mean she was still asleep

"You mean she was still asleep?" Dean asked as he stepped out of the bathroom clad in a pair of jeans, a towel hung around his shoulders.

Sam leaned against the headboard his long legs stretched out in front of him, the computer resting on his lap. "Yeah," Sam answered, his attention on the screen in front of him.

Dean rubbed the towel through his hair, causing the sandy strands to stand on end as he challenged his brother, "There's no way. Sara doesn't nap, and there's no way anyone gets into Sara's room without waking her up."

Sam shrugged as he continued to focus on the information before him.

"Sam, Sam," Dean shouted, at last resorting to swatting his brother with the towel.

"Ouch, Damn, Dean, that hurt," Sam said as he rubbed his injured foot. Glaring at his brother, he demanded, "Why'd you hit me?"

"Sara sleeping the day away and then not waking up, that doesn't strike you as weird?" Dean demanded as he dropped his towel on the bed and rifled through his bag looking for a clean shirt.

"Sara took the wash ten minutes ago. You'll have to track her down for a shirt," Sam muttered as he returned his attention to the computer.

Dean stared hard at his brother trying to determine if Sam was purposely being stupid or if he was simply focused on something else. There were more times than Dean liked to admit it that it was difficult to tell the difference. Finally, he decided it didn't matter, he required his brother's attention and he wanted it now. So with a flick of his wrist he ensured he got it. "Sam."

"Crap, Dean," Sam said this time jumping from the bed and nearly losing his laptop in the process when the towel whipped out toward his head.

Dean, enunciating each word, said, "SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH SARA."

Sam at last glanced up, his attention focused fully on his brother. Dean nearly groaned at the look of pity that filled Sam's gaze. He didn't want his brother feeling sorry for him, he wanted his brother to pull his head out of his ass and figure out what was wrong.

"Don't, Sam, don't shake your head at me. I'm right, I know I am. This isn't about her being heartbroken or any other crap. Something's wrong and I aim to find out what."

Sam sighed, as only Sam could, and said, "Listen, I know you're still worried about the dream and I'm not making light of it." Sam gestured toward his laptop that was now resting on the bed. "I'm keeping an eye on the area and at the first sign that something's wrong I'll see it I promise..."

Dean could hear a 'but' in Sam's tone and really, he had no patience for it. "Don't 'but' me, Sam. Something's already off, I just need you to read the signs and figure out what it is so I can kill it. That's what we do. So," Dean waved at the computer and continued, "Get figuring."

"Figure out what, Dean. That Sara's tired. Hell, I'm tired, and you, well, you look as if you haven't slept in months so what exactly is it that I'm supposed to research?

"Sam?" Sara asked as she walked in the room.

Dean turned on a dime only to find himself standing face to face with Sara. In fact, he was so close he could smell her. His entire body clenched at the hint of vanilla mixed with a warmer scent that was uniquely hers. He'd spent the entire morning trying to avoid being this close to her because he had known just how weak he was.

Sara seemed every bit as thrown off by their sudden closeness. Automatically her hand had come up to hover over his heart. She stopped herself from actually making contact with her hand only a half-inch from his skin. Dean's every muscle clenched in response to the gesture. Sara had always been fond of laying her hand over his heart, she claimed it was his best feature. However, if Sam were present she'd follow up this beautiful sentiment with the words, 'well second best anyway' followed by a lewd wink and a suggestive grin guaranteed to make Sam blush bright red.

Dean couldn't help but grin faintly at the gesture. Sara blushed and pulled her hand away as if it burned. Hell, maybe it had, thought Dean, his own temperature seemed to have gone up about a hundred degrees. Unable to resist the flush of pink that flowed into Sara's cheeks, he reached out one hand and drug his knuckle along her jaw line.

Sara jumped back as if that time she really had been burned. "Um, sorry, I, uh, didn't mean." Sara clamped her jaw tight and closed her eyes for a minute.

Dean couldn't help but feel a burst of masculine pride as he watched Sara take a deep breath before opening her eyes. "Did you need something?" he asked his eyes devouring the sight of her.

Up until now he'd been so careful to push away the memories of just good it had been. Though he knew that Sara felt a bit insecure about her age and her body he'd spent a lot of happy moments bolstering her self-image. She was all woman and would never be mistaken for a girl, but Dean had always found perfection in every last line and curve.

Breaking Dean's reverie, Sara said, "I brought you a clean shirt." Sara held up an old, black AC/DC shirt of his. "I didn't realize it until just now that I left you with nothing clean."

Dean felt a bolt of sadness flow through him at the sight of the shirt, she had confiscated it ages ago to wear as a night shirt. As Dean accepted the shirt with a pang of sadness, he found himself wondering if she still wore it. "Thanks, and you didn't need to do the laundry. Sam and I could have done it later."

Sara tore her gaze away from Dean's chest and frowned fiercely at him. "You know I never mind. Though, I would have preferred to find your clothes with a little less bloodstains." Sara's eyes dropped to Dean's torso once more, her gaze bouncing off the scar on his shoulder, before she met his gaze. This time there was censure in her eyes.

If it had been anyone else Dean would have shrugged off her obvious concern with a joke and a grin, but with Sara he just couldn't seem to find his smile. Instead, he simply said, "It's been a rough couple of months."

Sara took his words at face value with a nod. "Well, rest up while you're here. Dinner in ten," she called as she turned and left.

Sara seemed to take the sun with her when she left. Suppressing a shudder, Dean shrugged into his shirt and turned to face his brother. Sam's smirk was a little too all-knowing for Dean's taste. Before Sam could see what he was about Dean snagged the towel from the floor, twisted it in two quick motions and whipped it toward his brother.

888

Sara leaned back against the wall grateful for the support. Eyes closed she struggled to breathe, she needed to calm herself before any of the kids saw her. She just hadn't expected to come face to face with him like that. Earlier she'd heard the sound of the shower and a peek into the bedroom had shown Sam engrossed on the computer. Confident that Dean was otherwise occupied she'd darted in and made Sam relinquish their clothes.

Her plan for survival this week had been avoidance, well she'd blown that one all to hell when she'd breezed into their bedroom and ran smack dab into Dean. Sara's knees gave way at last and she sunk to the floor, her hands covering her eyes. How stupid could someone be, she'd gone out of her way to appear indifferent to him only to have her façade shatter in an instant.

He must think she was the most pathetic thing ever. She couldn't believe she'd acted so ridiculous when faced with his bare chest. Sara groaned in embarrassment, she just couldn't help it. There he stood smelling of soap, and aftershave and scent that went even deeper. So in tune his body she'd been able to feel the heat pouring off of him. And his chest, god, slim of hip and wide of shoulder the scars that marred his skin did nothing but accentuate just how lean and strong he was. She'd never considered herself a 'chicks dig scars' kinda girl but there was simply something about Dean that made her reconsider.

Maybe it was the fact that each scar was not just some minor mishap but a badge of honor he'd earned while doing a thankless job. Maybe it was the fact that she knew each scar as well as she knew her own and she could empathize with the pain he'd gone through. Who knows, all Sara knew was that she'd missed him more than she had imagined it was possible to miss someone over the last six months. Worst of all she was pretty sure that Dean now knew it.

"Mommy?"

Sara jumped a mile at the sound of Jessica calling her name. A quick brush across her face with her hand removed any trace of the tears she might have shed. "Yeah, baby?" Sara asked as she held out her hand to the little girl.

Jess stood, her bright pink tutu at odds with the large plastic sword she carried in her hand, it was obvious to Sara that this ballerina had dragons to slay. At her mother's invitation, Jess scrambled up onto Sara's lap with a sigh.

"The boys won't let me kill the dragon. They say I'm too little," Jess complained her expression so serious despite the Power Ranger mask she wore pushed back on her head.

Sara strove to keep her expression just as serious. "Hm, is that so? Well, why don't you find your own dragon to slay? Then the boys will realize you're the real deal."

"The weal deal?" Jess questioned, her voice raising an octave.

"Yup, the real deal. You, my girl, just need to show those boys you are every bit the dragon slayer that they are."

Jess seemed to think about Sara's words for a moment before at last she answered, "I think I'm gonna ask Sam to help me, he's a good dragon killer."

Sara touched her forehead to her daughters and smiled. Somehow, despite how bad things got her children never failed to bring a smile to her face. "You're right about that, baby girl."

Jess scrambled back out of Sara's arms and was headed toward the spare room in a flash. Sara pushed herself to her feet and hurried away from the bedroom. The last thing she needed was the men to find out she'd never made it out of the hall.

888

Sam topped off his coffee cup and settled back at the table to finish off the remainder of his breakfast. They'd now been at Sara's for three days and he had to admit, other than a bit of awkwardness between Sara and Dean, it was if the last six months had never happened. He for one couldn't be happier.

This morning, while Sara was off food shopping, he was planning to look over her latest book. He loved nothing more than to sit down with her manuscript and play editor. He was just finishing his cereal, when his brother entered the room.

While Dean poured himself some coffee, Sam took a moment to evaluate how he seemed to be faring this week. Already his brother looked better rested and he no longer snapped at every little thing. The only downside was that Dean seemed still convinced that something was wrong with Sara. Sam, hoping to appease his brother, had been keeping a close eye on the area and Sara just in case. So far, it had been for naught, Sara's energy level was up and she seemed less pale and more rested than she had when they'd arrived.

"Saw you on the laptop last night, you find anything?" Dean asked as he dropped into the seat across from Sam.

Sam couldn't help but sigh, if only he could convince his brother that everything was fine. Dean seemed determined to prove that the world was only seconds from collapsing. Sam had learned first hand just how carefully he needed to answer. "I was checking out the area, but everything looks good."

Dean nodded and reached out to snag a clean cereal bowl that had been left on the table. Choosing the Fruity Pebbles from the boxes of cereal that lined the table, he quickly poured himself a substantial bowl.

Chock one up to his appetite, Sam thought, as he watched his brother spoon a mound of cereal into his mouth.

"M, fnkng 's Reg," Dean said.

"Huh?" Sam questioned.

Dean swallowed and sipped his coffee before answering. "I'm thinking it's Greg."

"Well that cleared things up. What's Greg?" Sam asked unsure of what his brother was getting at, but sure he didn't really want to know.

"Greg's the one putting the mojo on Sara."

Sam stared at his brother in disbelief. "Dean, come on. Greg hasn't even been here for the last three days. And Sara's fine, there's nothing wrong with her. You've gotta face the facts, dude, she's not-"

"Don't, Sam. Don't you dare tell me she's fine. She's not fine. Something is wrong, just because you can't see it doesn't mean it's not true."

Dean stood up and began pacing the kitchen, his long strides taking him from one end of the room to the other. "She's tired and she's lost weight," Dean said his expression making it clear just how worried he was. "Her color's off, she's as white as a ghost." Dean heard his own expression and winced a bit. "And she's-"

This time it was Sam who cut Dean off. "You just described yourself, man. Do you get that Dean? You walked out on her and left her heartbroken, Dean. And now you feel guilty so your blaming some innocent guy for changes in Sara that you..." Sam's voice trailed off as realized what he'd said.

"I know what I did, and I'm the one that has to live with it," Dean's voice was so low Sam had to strain to hear him. "But I know that something is wrong.

Sam shook his head and got to his feet. "I'm sorry, man, but I'm not going to drag this guy through the mud simply because you're jealous. If you don't want her then you need to let her go."

Sam turned and left the kitchen determined not to encourage Dean in anyway. He knew what guilt could do to a person better than anyone. However, that also meant he realized there was little he could do to alter Dean's perception. The best thing would be for the Winchester brother's to move on, Sam knew that would help the situation more than anything else could. At least then Dean would be free to heal and Sara could get on with her own life.

Problem was, Brian still wasn't due back for another four days and Dean adamantly refused to get the tires from anyone else. Sam shook his head and continued determinately toward Sara's office. He was going to enjoy the remaining four days, regardless of what crazy ideas Dean threw at him.

888

Dean watched his brother storm out of the kitchen. He should have known better than to try and talk sense into Sammy. His brother was so determined that it was Dean feeling guilty, that he was overlooking the big picture. Every instinct in Dean's body screamed that Sara was in trouble. If there's one thing his father had drilled into him, it was trust yourself. So Dean planned to do just that. Problem was he had no idea how to go about it.

Dean resumed his seat to finish his breakfast and to work out a plan. It was then the phone that was mounted on the wall behind him began to ring. Out of habit he answered it, and then could have kicked himself for doing so. He had no idea what kind of a response he would get from Sara's family but if her uncle's behavior was anything to go by he was the last voice her mother would want to hear.

Too late to do much else, Dean answered, "Hello?"

There was a slight pause before Dean heard Greg's smooth voice, "Oh, hey, I was looking for Sara. I didn't realize you guys were still in town."

Dean didn't bother to hide his shark-like grin. "Nope, we're still here."

Greg paused once more before he spoke, "Well, if you could let Sara know I called."

Dean had a moment's vision of just what he'd like to do to the man on the other end of the line. He was about to hang up when he had an idea. He was certain that Greg wasn't what he made himself out to be, he felt it down to his toes and as far as Dean was concerned Jack's obvious dislike only proved it. Dean didn't bother to hide the challenge in his voice as he spoke, "Why don't you come on over tonight. I'm making my specialty."

This time the pause was so long Dean almost thought he'd been hung up on. At last Greg said, "Alright I will. I'll be there after work."

Dean's smile never reached his eyes as he said, "See you then." He hung up the phone and settled back. Well, he got his wish, what better opportunity for a little research than to have the subject face to face. He knew something was wrong with Greg and tonight he intended to prove it.


	8. Chapter 8

"You looking for lunch, Winchester

"You looking for lunch, Winchester?" Sara asked as she entered the kitchen, a plastic grocery bag hanging from each hand.

Dean started, with a decidedly guilty look and Sara felt her hackles rise in response. A guilty Dean was never a good thing. The last time he'd looked this way it was because he'd accidentally taught Jess to say 'son of a bitch'. The little girl had spent a week using this exclamation every time she stubbed her toe or dropped her wubby.

"Tell me my daughter's not quoting you again?" Sara said her eyes scanning the room for the toddler. Jess had the most unfortunate habit of mimicking everything Dean said. Even worse, she seemed to understand how to use the words, especially the curses.

Dean's eyes widened a fraction as he also glanced around for his shadow. "She's not," he denied, a little too quickly for her satisfaction.

"Hm. Well, you feel like something to eat? Just let me unpack and I'll make you and Sam something."

"Sara, we're not here to have you wait on us. In fact, we should be helping you out." Dean suited his actions to his words and stepped forward. As he relieved Sara of the two bags she held, he gave her a bright smile.

Sara didn't trust him for a moment. Though Dean more than helped out around the house when he was in town, his culinary arts were limited to say the least. Pancakes and sandwiches were the extent of his cooking skills and Sam could barely manage either of those. "Huh, okay. I'm gonna get the rest of the groceries out of the car and then I'm gonna search the house for the real Dean Winchester cause obviously you're a shapeshifter."

Giving him no chance to reply, Sara left the kitchen grateful for the dark interior of the garage. Ever since she'd come face to face with him, or well face to chest she'd struggled to control her every reaction. Sarcasm had become her only defense and she used it to deflect every last bit of emotion she could. Well, that and work. Her office was the one sanctuary left to her, and she took to that room every chance she got. Surprisingly, since Sunday she'd found herself feeling better than she had in awhile, the ever increasing weariness that had seemed to be stalking her every move had passed and she found herself once again, a normal person, rather than the vampire she'd impersonated for the last couple of months.

For a while there it seemed as if she couldn't manage to get through the day without a nap, usually taken while Jess was resting. Now, though, she felt revived and more than able to spend her quiet afternoons writing rather than resting.

Sara didn't even want to stop and consider that this new found energy had begun after Dean had stormed back into her life. He wasn't a permanent fixture, she scolded herself, and he never would be again. She had too many responsibilities weighing her down to give into a heartbroken ennui. Some might resent those responsibilities, but for Sara...her kids, her family, and her career had been literally lifesavers. Without them, she would have been more than happy to simply drift away after Dean walked out of her life.

As she grabbed the last of the groceries out of the van, she turned and headed back into the house. She had just reached the kitchen when she saw her daughter standing before Dean, a stubborn look plastered across her face. Curious as to what had gotten her dander up, Sara entered the room.

"Cwlry and peanutter," Jess demanded making a perfect pout with her rosebud lips.

"I don't know what cwlry is, Jess," Dean explained the exasperation in his voice making it clear this wasn't the beginning of this conversation.

Jess, at a loss as to how to make the older man understand, darted toward the bags on the floor and began rifling through them. At last with a triumphant crow, she brought forth a bunch of celery from the white plastic bag. "Cwlry and peanutter," she stated obviously pleased with herself.

Dean shot Sara a grin that made her heart melt and headed for the cabinet. "Oh, that cwlry, sorry, toots, I'm not much for the green stuff."

Dean opened the door and began rooting around for the peanut butter, as he did he said over his shoulder to Sara. "Who the hell puts peanut butter on celery?"

Sara smiled and began putting away her groceries. Without thought she fell back on banter, verbally sparring with Dean could be an Olympic sport, he always gave as good as he got. "How is it that Sam managed to avoid scurvy with you in charge of his meals?" Sara countered.

Jess now sitting in a chair waiting for her snack snorted and said, "Curvy."

Dean returned to the little girl's side with the peanut butter and looked down at the bunch of celery that sat on the table. "Pizza fulfills the four food groups. Okay, what now?"

Sara grinned and grabbed a plate out of the cabinet, handing it to Dean she said, "Pretty simple, pull off a couple of stalks, wash, and smear with peanut butter. Oh, and there are five food groups, Dean." Sara stopped to watch Dean approach the bright green vegetable as if it would bite and couldn't help but add, "Don't let it see you sweat, Dean. You'll never get it to submit to the peanut butter if it doesn't think you're in charge."

It took Dean ten long minutes to get three pieces of celery filled with peanut butter and on Jess' plate. By this time Jess sat one elbow resting on the table and her chin propped in her hand with a look of complete boredom on her face. Dean was about to place the last piece on her place when it slipped from his fingers landing facedown on the kitchen floor.

"Son of a bitch." Two voices rang out true and strong one, high and sweet, and one, deep and gravely.

Sara couldn't stop the tears that flooded her eyes at her daughter's mimic. Afraid he'd see her grief, Sara ducked out of the kitchen.

888

"What are you doing?" Sam asked his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Cooking dinner," Dean replied as he stirred the pot before him once more.

"You can't cook," Sam said as he crossed the kitchen and opened the fridge.

"Course I can. Toss me a beer would you?"

Sam pulled two beers from the fridge, handing one to his brother, he walked over to the pot that was simmering on the stove. "What is it?" Sam asked not bothering to hide the skepticism in his voice. As far as he knew his brother could make roughly three things and none of them looked like this.

"It's marinara sauce, Sam," Dean said as if it should be obvious. "I told Sara I'd make dinner.

"Sam stared at the pot for a moment before taking a long pull on his beer. He couldn't decide what bothered him more, the fact that his brother was obviously up to something or the idea that he'd suddenly become Julia Child. "You didn't make this," Sam accused, turning toward his brother.

"Course I did, nothing to it."

Sam studied Dean for a moment before trusting his instincts. He moved toward the trashcan in the corner of the room and lifted the lid. Sure enough, there was a jar of Ragu discarded in the trash. Sam snorted and dropped the lid. "Yeah, homemade."

Dean grinned and shrugged. "Hey, I wanted to do something nice and god knows I can't cook."

Sam met his brother's grin and dropped into the seat across from him. "Yeah, I guess dad kinda failed at domesticating us."

"Yeah, well that's cause you can't teach what you don't know."

Sam's laugh rang out loud. "True. So what's up? Why the sudden urge to play 'Alice'?"

Dean got to his feet and headed toward the sink. With his back to his brother he finally said, "I just thought it'd be nice."

Sam knew Dean was lying, hell, the tension in his brother's shoulders made it more than obvious. Problem was, Sam didn't know why Dean was lying and he found himself debating whether or not he should get involved. After their argument this morning, Sam had an uneasy feeling that Dean was up to something.

"Sara's in her office," Sam offered trying pick up some clue as to what was going on.

Dean just nodded, his back still turned toward Sam. "I know, she wanted to get some work done while Jess napped."

Frustrated his brother was shutting him out, Sam blurted, "What're you doing, Dean?"

At last, the older man turned to face him. Sam's worry increased tenfold when he saw Dean's guilty expression.

"What'd you do?"

Dean shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, he answered, "Nothing, I mean it's no big deal."

Sam didn't bother repeating his question, he just stared hard at his brother, willing him to talk.

"Well, Greg called earlier and I kinda, sorta, invited him over for dinner."

Sam's jaw dropped open in shock. Of all the dumb and stupid things he had expected to hear his brother say, this one ranked dead last.

"Don't look at me that way, Sam. You're the one that said I was too hard on the guy. So, I'm making amends." Dean at least had the grace to flush as he spoke.

Sam's voice rose with his every word, "I can't believe you. You're still trying to prove some big conspiracy. Did it ever occur to you that maybe she just likes him and he likes her?"

"You trying to wake the dead, Sam?" Sara asked as she entered the kitchen, anger etched on her face.

Sam felt a stab of guilt pierce him as he considered what she might have overheard. "Sara, I..."

"Sam, would you please excuse me and your brother?" Sara's voice made it clear that she wasn't in the mood to be opposed.

Sam nodded and left the room. He figured he'd probably be better off picking up the kids at the bus stop. At least it would get him outside of shouting distance.

888

Dean turned to face Sara. He knew she was bound to find out sooner or later. Though, his goal of putting it off until she was sitting across the table from Greg was probably hoping for too much. Determined to make her speak first he folded his arms across his chest and waited. It didn't take long.

"What's going on, Dean? I mean, do I even want to know?"

Dean strove to appear nonchalant as he answered, "It's not like it's a big deal. Your friend," Dean emphasized the word friend, "called and I invited him over for dinner. I figured it would make up for me acting like an ass on Sunday."

"You did what?" Sara asked her voice dropping even lower.

Shit, Dean knew he was in trouble now. With Sara, the louder she yelled the quicker she got over her anger, it was only when she grew quiet that you knew you were in real trouble. "I just thought-"

"No, you obviously didn't think. Not one bit. Who I invite into my house is my business. What led you to believe that I would in any way, shape, or form want you involved in my life." With each word Sara stepped ever closer, until at last she stood toe to toe with him. "You walked out on me, Dean. You chose to leave us behind, you did that."

Dean's heart broke at the accusation in her eyes. His determination to avoid this topic fled at the pain he could see so clearly. "I did what I thought was best, I never meant to hurt you," he pleaded his voice rough with emotion.

Sara's eyes filled with tears and her shoulders hitched with silent sobs. Her words were halting at first but they gained in momentum as she continued, "I know that I wasn't enough for you, but when you left you took everything with you...I was left with nothing. You can't believe that I would just go out and replace you."

Dean determinedly ignored the moisture in his own eyes and reached out to grasp Sara's shoulders. He couldn't believe that she would ever think that she hadn't been good enough for him. "You are everything to me. That's why I left, Sara. I had to. After Gordon I couldn't bear the thought of hurting you." Dean's voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned closer, "I could never hurt you."

He just couldn't resist. He could feel the heat of her body through the thin material of her tee shirt and it was driving him wild. He had been so careful to keep a safe distance between them, but now as he stood watching her eyes close in expectation he realized that this kiss had been inevitable.

"Sara," he breathed just before his lips covered hers. He pressed his mouth to hers almost questioningly. Once, twice, three times their lips met. Each time they stayed joined for just an instant longer. Dean's body began to hum with pleasure. He was engulfed by her scent, by the heat of her body as they came together. It was as if he hadn't been warm, truly warm, in months and now with her body pressing against his he felt as if he were on fire.

They were like magnets, unable to resist the pull they came together with not an inch of space left between them. One of Sara's hands slid to rest on his chest, the other drifted to the back of his neck. She left a trail of heat everywhere she touched him.

Dean's own hands slid around to her back and down, he couldn't stop himself from gripping a handful of her tee shirt as he pulled her hips toward his own. Desperate to taste her, Dean's tongue darted out and lightly traced her lower lip.

At the contact Sara gasped, her lips parting in invitation. Dean dipped his tongue into the moist warmth of her mouth. The memory of her taste didn't compare to the reality. Their six-month separation had only served to heighten his passion for her. Desperation drove Dean, he needed this moment, this contact, and he wanted her. Frantic with need, he guided Sara backward until she was pressed against the kitchen table. Pulling back only enough to gasp for breath, Dean moved his hands from the small of her back to her hips. In one swift motion, he lifted her settling her on the tabletop.

This time it was Dean that gasped as he moved between her thighs and pressed himself against her warmth. Abandoning her lips for the moment, he trailed his lips across her jaw and down her neck, stopping only to lightly nip her earlobe. Down her slim throat he kissed, using his lips, tongue and even his teeth.

Sara sat on the table, her head thrown back to give him better access, her legs locked around his slim hips. Her hands, which at first had remained wrapped around his neck, were no longer still. Instead, they trembled as she worked to release the buttons on his shirt.

Impatient for more, Dean's own hands trailed down to the hem of Sara's tee. He abandoned the path his lips were making only long enough to allow her shirt to pass over her head. The feel of her soft skin in contrast to his work-roughened hands, as he trailed his fingers down her exposed back, drew another groan from him.

She was beautiful, the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and in this moment he needed to make sure she knew it. "God, you're so beautiful. You're perfect," he murmured, as his mouth caressed the tops of her breasts. At this moment the sight of her simple, white, cotton bra, against her olive colored skin, was so much more exciting than any satin or lace could ever be. Sara's choice of simple and pretty, rather than femme fatal was such an intrinsic trait and Dean loved her all the more for it.

At last, she worked his shirt free, pushing it off his shoulders, she seemed suddenly hesitant when faced with his bare chest. One shaking hand reached out to cover his heart. She then replaced her hand with her lips. It wasn't until her still slightly shaking hands slipped down to his waistband that all hell broke loose.

"Mom?" came the cry from the garage followed by what sounded like a heard of buffalo.

Sara never hesitated. One shove to his chest and her feet were on the ground. Her shirt in hand, she took off down the hallway toward the office.

Dean swiped his own shirt from floor and began setting a record for the fastest buttoning. "Hey, Mike, hey, Jim," he called out hoping to distract the boys from their mom long enough for Sara to get herself together.

Both boys tumbled into the kitchen full of their news for the day. Dean had no problem presenting a calm front to them, Sam he found, was another matter. As soon as his brother followed the boys into the kitchen, Dean could feel the weight of his judgment. Then again, maybe it was simply his own guilt that he felt. "Don't, Sam," Dean warned.

Sam stared hard at him for a moment before relenting with a shrug. Dean turned his attention to the boys and set about trying to ignore the ache in his body as well as the one in his heart.

888

"Here, Sara, let me help you," Greg said as he stood and began to gather the dishes from the table.

Sara almost argued with him, but a glance in Dean's direction changed her mind. Shooting the handsome man a smile, she said, "Thanks, I'd appreciate it."

Despite the confines of the house, Sara had managed to avoid Dean for the rest of the afternoon. She'd done this by simply refusing to leave her office. The kids accustomed to her, sometimes obsessive, work ethic settled in to follow their own pursuits leaving her with a bit of peace. She had refused to consider the fact that they had company coming. That was Dean's problem not hers, she would leave him to set the table and make dinner, after all he was the one that had invited Greg.

Sara only wished she could have avoided thinking of Dean as easily as she avoided seeing him. He must think she was beyond pathetic for the way she reacted to his kiss not two seconds after he got done telling her he didn't want her. Oh, he could soften the blow any way he wanted but deep down Sara knew that's what it amounted to. Why would someone like Dean want a thirty-five year old woman with three kids and a house in the suburbs?

"Sara?"

Sara snapped back to the present and realized she was holding a plate of spaghetti in her hand. Apparently, in her daze, she'd managed to dump most of it on the floor. As she stood and watched, the last stray clump slithered off her plate to land with a plop. Sara closed her eyes and counted to five. Then she counted to ten. At last, somewhat calm, she opened her eyes to find not only Dean's bright green gaze on her, but also Greg's steely blue one. Sara clenched her teeth ignored them both, turning to Michael she asked, "Honey, go get Jack."

At mention of the dog, Greg set the plates he held down and moved around the dining room table, effectively putting the big piece of furniture between himself and basement door. Sara couldn't help the burst of irritation that flooded her, she knew that Jack hadn't been on his best behavior with Greg but he could at least trust her enough to control her dog.

Jack, released from the basement where he'd been banished, darted into the room his attention completely focused on Greg. As Sara watched the animal charge into the room, his hair bristling, his low growl menacing, she couldn't help but feel guilty for her earlier thoughts. "Jack, down," she called. Really, this was just starting to get ridiculous, no matter how many times she told Jack to stand down, he chose to forget his commands each time Greg re-entered the house. Like all the other men in her life, Jack had an annoying habit of doing as he pleased.

Jack dropped to the ground in a low crouch that brought to mind a lion ready to pounce and continued his throaty growl. "Jack," Sara called distracting the dog from his self-appointed mission and bringing his attention to the pile of spaghetti on the floor. Jack's focus shifted in an instant as he gained his feet and made straight for the leftover treat.

Sara sighed, avoided Dean's direct gaze, and headed out of the room. Straight to the sink she went, where she began washing up. Dinner had been almost fun. Sam had been determined to show her his support so he'd been on his best behavior, telling stories of life on the road and urging Greg to share his own tales of life as a accountant. Several times Sara had found herself enjoying the banter. Only Dean's direct questions and suspicious attitude stopped the evening from being a complete success.

Sam stepped up beside her and placed a couple of plates next to the sink. Sara allowed herself one moment to lean against his solid strength. His arm slipped easily around her waist as he whispered in her ear, "Having fun?"

Sara just chuckled weakly and said, "Sure, I mean why wouldn't I be?"

Sam's laugh was low and heartfelt. "Yeah, well for what's its worth he seems like a nice guy."

Sara shook her head, all laughter gone from her voice, "He's not for me, Sam. There's no one else for me." Sara didn't need to see Sam's face to know that the younger man understood, but she did appreciate the slight squeeze he gave her before he walked away.

Sara really couldn't understand just why Dean thought she was in the market for a husband. Yes, she'd been friendly with Greg but it had never and would never amount to anything more. Not as long as Dean or the memory of Dean continued to make her feel like she did with just a glance of his bright green gaze. Sara was nothing if not a realist and she wasn't about to step on someone else's heart simply because she was lonely.

Greg moved into the kitchen, by way of the living room, and began to help her with the dishes. They worked well together making small talk as they cleaned up the remainder of dinner.

888

"Here, this'll help," Sam said as he handed his brother a beer. Dean had been sitting on the deck for over an hour now, Jack's heavy head resting on his boot. Every now and again, he would lean over and scratch the animal's ears earning a happy growl from the big dog.

"Thanks, bro."

Sam nodded and sank into a chair with his own beer. Though he wasn't sure what had happened this afternoon he knew it didn't bode well for Sara and Dean's future. His brother had begun distancing himself more and more as dinner had gone on until even the few pointed questions he asked Greg seemed passionless.

"You gonna tell me what's going on?"

Dean shook his head slightly and for a minute, Sam thought he was going to refuse. It was only after his brother took a sip of his beer that he finally began to speak. "She's gonna marry him, he'll raise her children as his own. Hell, they might even have a kid or two together. That's her life," Dean said as he nodded toward where they could both see the family gathered around the dining room table playing some game.

Sam suddenly lost his patience with his brother. It was Dean's own determined pig-headedness that was keeping them from tossing Greg out on his ass and settling themselves around that damn table, and Sam was sick of pretending otherwise. "Don't, don't you do this, Dean. The only reason she would ever settle for that life is because you refuse to let her be a part of yours. We spent a lot of time gathered around that table and if I remember correctly, at least when it was you sitting there she never looked as if she wanted to cry. You're she wants and despite how hard he tries, Greg will never get any farther than he is now. She's incapable of loving anyone else."

For just an instant Sam thought he saw a glimmer of fight come into his brother's eyes. However, just like that it was gone, snuffed out by the older man's self-doubt and anxiety for her well-being. "You were right, Sam. He's just fine. A little boring maybe but he's on the up and up."

Sam knew a subject change when he heard one and really he couldn't see the point of pushing the issue. His brother would do what he thought was best and that was that. The least Sam could do was throw him a bone. "I Chirsto'd him," Sam admitted a tired grin on his face.

Dean nodded and laughed, "I put holy water in his beer."

Both Winchesters burst out laughing. Jack hearing the sound jumped up and ruffed a couple of times as if asking to get in on the fun. Watching the big animal play puppy sent both men off again.

At last, Sam gasped, "Bobby'd be so proud."

Dean sipped his beer and nodded. "Yeah, he would at that. Poor Greg'll have to suffer through watered down beer and Latin all over again once Bobby's back in town."

Sam slumped down in his chair, his beer resting on his stomach and looked up at the star filled night. "Naw, he won't be around long enough to meet Bobby. Sara doesn't want him and she won't string him along now that she knows he's interested in more than friendship."

Sam wasn't surprised when Dean remained silent. In fact, he was nearly dozing in his seat when his brother finally broke the silence.

"I've been thinking, we ought to borrow Sara's key and help ourselves to Brian's garage," Dean said, his voice loud in the still of the night.

Sam would have liked to say he was surprised but really after the blow-up this afternoon there were only two ways Dean could have gone. The first was to beg Sara to take him back and then spend a lifetime making up for his temporary insanity. The other was that his determination to stay out of her life would have grown. Sam had his answer, not that he'd been expecting anything else.

"God, Dean, I'm just so damn sorry," Sam uttered, the guilt of having landed his brother in this mess in the first place overwhelming him.

Dean reached over and clapped a hand on his brother's arm. Giving Sam a grim smile, Dean said, "Aw, come on, Sammy, it's not your fault. Nobody could have predicted us getting stuck here in town."

At Dean's words, the beer Sam had been drinking went down the wrong pipe and he began to cough. Dean pounded him on the back, obviously worried. Sam at last waved him off and wiped a hand across his eyes. "Fine, really, just..." Sam cleared his throat, "went down the wrong pipe."

Dean eased back in his chair, his eyes still pinned to his brother. "We can go tonight. We'll find the right tires, and I'll just mount them and balance them there in the shop. We can leave the cash for Brian, he won't care."

Sam nodded, really it shouldn't matter. Hell, Sara's last name was still on the storefront and she and Brian were close. Plus, Dean had done work for the man in the past and he'd always seemed real fond of both Winchesters. "If you think."

Sam couldn't help but turn toward the house once more. The warm glow of the lights only served to make the family that sat at the dining room table seem even sweeter. He would miss them, and this time there would be no more hope. This time the Winchesters would stay gone.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean eased open the door and went directly to the keypad on the wall next to the door

Dean eased open the door and went directly to the keypad on the wall next to the door. If luck was on his side, Brian's code would still be Sara's birthday. The mechanic was nothing if not loyal to the widow of his former partner. Despite Sara's apathy toward him, Brian made no effort to hide his affection for her. Sara for her part had never encouraged the younger man and had in fact, sternly rebuffed his advances. Brian in turn had hidden his disappointment and had gone on to become a good friend to the Power's family. So good a friend that he'd offered Dean a job working in his garage during the Winchester brother's first stay with Sara.

Ever since then, Dean and Brian had struck up a friendship of sorts, although they would never become close, their common concern for Sara and her small family was a bond of sorts. That's the only reason he'd suggested they take what they need from the shop, otherwise he'd have never broken in and stolen supplies from a garage in Sara's home town. When in the area, Dean was always as careful as he could be to allow no hint of what he and Sam were to touch Sara's life.

It took only a moment to realize that entering the code wouldn't be necessary. The indicator pad was already green indicating the system wasn't armed. Dean stared hard at the panel for a moment, unsure of why Brian wouldn't have set the alarm before leaving, he was normally very good about it. Shaking off his unease, Dean moved to the far side of the garage and hit the button that raised the large aluminum door. As the door crept up, he used the bit of moonlight that shone through the opening to take stock of his surroundings. The six-car garage looked the same as usual. There were two open bays and the rest were filled with cars and even a few SUV's in different states of repair.

Dean was surprised, if Brian was on an annual trip, he would have thought the other man wouldn't have left so many cars strewn about the shop. As Sam pulled Sara's jeep into the garage, Dean hit the button again effectively shutting the big door and cutting off all natural light. The good thing about the garage was the fact that there were no windows in the work area, only a couple small ones in the office.

Confident that no one would see, Dean flipped on a couple of the overhead lights. As his brother climbed out of the jeep, Dean indicated the storeroom. "I'm gonna get moving. If lucky we can be in and out within the hour."

Sam nodded and clapped his hands together. "What do you need me to do?"

"Just don't touch anything," Dean growled, "it'll be quicker if I do it on my own."

888

Sam didn't take offense at Dean's words, after all his brother was right it probably would go faster if he stayed out of Dean's way. Problem is that left him with an hour to kill and nothing to do. After ten minutes of watching Dean mutter to himself about the damaged Impala tires, Sam decided he'd be better off somewhere else. In Brian's small garage that left only the office.

He knew Brian had an internet connection and really if they were heading out of Pennsylvania they needed somewhere to go. Making up his mind to find their next hunt, Sam headed for the small room situated at the end of the garage. As he walked past the cars, he was surprised to find Brian's pick-up truck parked in the very first bay.

"Hey, Dean, Brian's truck's here," Sam called out, as he glanced over the big Ford.

Dean turned from the shop's tire changer and glared at his brother. "So, he probably drove up to the cabin with someone."

Sam glanced at the truck once more and shrugged, Dean was right and besides what difference did it make. They'd be in and out in an hour and back to Sara's place. By tomorrow afternoon, they'd be back on the road and the Power's family would be just another in a long list of regrets.

Sam opened the office door carefully. He didn't want to risk the light of the garage shining out of the office windows. He slipped inside shutting the door behind himself and allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. Moonlight streamed through the two windows that faced the front parking lot, allowing Sam to see with little trouble. Spying the computer on Brian's desk, he made a bee-line for the battered leather chair that sat behind the mechanic's large metal desk.

A loud bang followed by an even louder curse had Sam pausing in his tracks. A moment later he heard Dean grumbling to himself so he assumed his brother was fine. Guilt was making it harder and harder for Sam to keep what he'd done to himself. If not for his ill-conceived plan Sara would have never even known that they were in town and Dean would never have had to suffer through watching her move on with her life. Problem was the only way Sam knew to lessen the guilt was to confess but quite honestly he was afraid that in this case, confession, while good for the soul, might get him killed.

Twice now the car had been damaged, either directly or indirectly as was the case of the semi-truck, by Sam. His brother had forgiven him for the crash, really, it had been out of Sam's control, but this, well this was bound to haunt Sam for the rest of his life. He sighed and moved forward his mind still grappling with his options, when he tripped and landed hard on the concrete.

"Shit," he muttered as he got his hands under him and pushed himself up off the floor. A glance over his shoulder at what he'd tripped over had him cursing even louder, "Damn."

"Dean," he yelled, as he took in the black boot that stuck out just past the desk. If he lived any other life, Sam would have assumed the boot was empty, however, given the fact that he was a Winchester, he knew better.

Sure enough, as he moved around the desk he saw the shoe was in fact, not empty. It still firmly enclosed a foot that was attached to a leg that, well, led upward. Despite the fact that the body laid face down Sam had no trouble identifying who it was. Brian's plaid flannel and blue chinos were as familiar as his face.

888

"Sam, you forgetting the reason we're here?" Dean asked as he pushed open the office door. Any other comments he might have made were cut off by the site of Sam kneeling down on the ground.

As the door swung shut behind him, Dean moved forward, an uneasy feeling sliding down his back. Once he'd rounded the desk the reason for Sam's posture became clear. "Shit," he breathed.

Sam nodded and looked up at him. "Yeah, that's pretty much what I said."

"No blood," Dean noted. He pulled out his flashlight and turned it on, as long as he was careful to keep it low, he didn't think it would be visible from outside. The idea of being found in Reed's Garage was bad enough before, but now with Brian lying dead on the floor it would be a catastrophe.

"I know, and he's been dead for awhile."

Dean nodded, and stood, toeing Brian's body, he flipped the corpse, grimacing at the bloated face of the man who'd once been his boss. "You see anything?" Dean asked on arm wrapped over his nose. Now that they'd disturbed the body the smell of decay was impossible to miss.

Sam shook his head. "No I can't find a mark on him. You think maybe it was just something simple, like a heart attack?"

"When are we every that lucky." Dean retorted, he was just about to turn away when something caught his eye.

"What?" Sam questioned as he noted his brother's sudden shift in focus.

Dean reached out one finger and gently rotated Brian's wrist so the dead man's hand was palm up.

"What the hell is it?"

"Vampire?" Dean questioned, as he stared at the bite. Normally, a vampire bite consisted of two small punctures if the vamp was kind, if not they often tore the skin in their haste to feed. In this case, the 'bite' for lack of a better word measured only a half-inch in diameter and was a single hole in the center of a dark purplish bruise. The hole was crusted with a small amount of blood, but if it wasn't for the bruising Dean would have never even noticed it.

Sam eased closer and shook his head, "Not like any I've seen."

"Yeah, but it's too damn big to be a mosquito bite, it's gotta be something," Dean said as he stood once more. "We've gotta get out of here, wipe down the room and meet me out in the garage. We can't afford to get caught here."

Dean's words suited his actions and within minutes he was back out in the garage working to finish up the tires. Now more than ever they needed his girl up and running. Something was going on and despite the perfect opportunity for him to declare 'told you so' to Sam, he was scared as hell it went hand in hand with his nightmares.

Faster than Dean could have imagined, they had the tires, mounted and balanced and were loading them up in the jeep. One last swipe of the interior of the garage and then Sam was backing the jeep out of the shop, while Dean waited to shut the door. In minutes, he was ducking under the already closing garage door, thanking their dubious luck that the alarm company would have no record of this little visit.

As he slid into the Jeep, he couldn't help but feel a pang for the man they left behind. Though Brian was beyond help, he wasn't comfortable with leaving his body undiscovered for another couple of days. There was really no way around it though, not if the Winchesters wanted to find the killer.

"We telling, Sara?" Sam asked as he drove the deserted streets back to her house. It was nearing four in the morning and the darkness still gripped the forest that surrounded them.

Dean considered the question and wasn't sure of his reply. He knew Sara would never forgive him if something supernatural had decided to squat in her neighborhood, but Dean also knew she would insist on bringing in the police. "What do you think?"

Sam shrugged and kept his gaze peeled to the road in front of them, deer in this area were plentiful, and he obviously had no intention of hitting one. "She's gonna see the tires, she's not stupid. And if we lie outright she might not forgive us."

"But," Dean prompted.

"But she's also gonna wanna call the cops and I'd rather not get fingered in Brian's death," Sam finished.

Dean nodded his agreement. "That about sums it up. We'll sleep on it tonight, well what's left of tonight," Dean said suddenly feeling weary. "Tomorrow morning is soon enough to decide"

888

Dean sat bolt upright, every last vestige of sleep leaving him as he gripped the knife in his hand. Jim stood only inches away from his side, a big grin on his face.

"Good morning," he chirped.

Dean had forgotten just how cheery Jim was in the morning. Sara liked to lay blame for that little habit on her husband's doorstep, but the fact was, she herself always awoke with a smile to greet the day. Granted the smile came easier with a couple cups of coffee but still, Dean had a feeling she'd been much like Jim as a child.

Hastily tucking the knife back under his pillow, Dean asked, "What's the matter, buddy?" A glance at his watch showed him it was nearly eight-thirty. Jim needed to be at the bus stop at the end of the driveway in about five minutes.

"Mom's still sleeping," Jim complained, the worry in his voice betraying his smile.

Worry shot through Dean as he contemplated Jim's words. Sara never overslept, not once in the time he'd known her had she been late waking up on a school day. Although, Jim was more than capable of fixing himself breakfast, and getting dressed, his mom was always up to walk him to the bus stop. Not wanting Jim to worry, Dean smiled and said, "No worries, Sam'll walk you up and I'll keep an eye on the kids."

Unsurprisingly, Sam, had awoken already. "Just give me a minute to throw some jeans on, Jim and I'll walk you."

Sam slipped from his bed and grabbed the jeans he'd worn the night before from the floor. Herding his charge out the door, Sam shot a look of worry over his shoulder. He was obviously every bit as worried about Sara as Dean was. "I'll be right back."

Dean climbed out of bed and grabbed the first thing that came to hand. Dressing in a rush he left the room ten minutes later. As he headed out into the house he noted the TV was on in the living room. Following the sound he found Jess and Mike both sitting on the couch watching cartoons.

"Morning, guys," he called, his gaze traveling up the stairwell. His fist instinct was to rush up the stairs and check on Sara but he hesitated. He didn't want the children coming with him in case something was wrong. Sam would be back in minutes and then he could go up unhindered. "Where's the big guy?"

Michael answered, "Jack went to the bus stop with Sam."

Dean nodded and moved toward the stairs. "Sam'll be back in a sec, you two stay put I'm gonna just check on Mom." He called over his shoulder as he darted up the stairs. Behind him the clatter of Jack's nails on the hardwood floor ushered in Sam's return. Dean breathed easier knowing that Sam would keep watch over the kids. The door to Sara's room was directly across from the stairwell. He was surprised to see it firmly shut.

Sara never slept with the door shut. She preferred it open so she could hear the children. No wonder Jim had seemed confused. Dean had noticed during the last few days that unlike the younger children, Jim seemed to sense that his mom had been acting differently. Fear now pulsing through him, he knocked lightly on the door. He prayed she'd answer right away, maybe with a little sound of panic thrown in for oversleeping.

There was no answer from the room beyond. No longer caring about improprieties, Dean opened the door and entered the darkened room.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean eased into the room, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the dim light The early morning sunshine was blocked by the v

Dean eased into the room, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the dim light The early morning sunshine was blocked by the vertical blinds that hung in the windows. From his vantage point, he could barely make out a vague hump in the covers. To Dean the room seemed overly stifling, the air stale and stagnant. He was surprised to say the least, Sara normally slept with the window cracked open. However, it was clear she hadn't bothered last night.

As he approached the bed on silent feet, he wasn't sure why but he'd never realized just how far it was between the door and Sara's king sized bed. Today, with his heart racing a million miles an hour, that distance seemed to grow even farther. He was working hard to convince himself that Sara had simply overslept. Yup, he thought to himself, any moment she was going to wake up and give him a ration of shit for letting her sleep in so long. Dean stared hard at the bed willing the woman he loved to wake up.

"Sara," he called as he neared her side.

He thrust away the image of Brian dead on his office floor as he took in the sight of Sara on her stomach, her face turned away from him. One pale arm was tucked under her pillow, the other lay above her head. The light blue sheet lay pooled at the small of her back, leaving one leg exposed. Despite the dimness of the room, he could clearly make out the light blue veins that marred the pallor of her flesh.

He felt the last of his courage flee as he reached the side of the bed. His intention had been to shake her awake. However, when faced with the utter stillness of her body, he found he lacked the ability to confirm what his suspicions screamed at him. So confident was he that Sara was dead, he very nearly called Sam to his side. Luckily, the thought of Michael and Jess hearing his cry was enough to cut off the scream that was building in the back of his throat.

Unable to control the shaking that wracked his form, Dean's knees gave out, dropping him to the soft beige rug. Now level with Sara, he desperately sought out some small sign of life. He forced his trembling hand to reach out to her shoulder. With one finger, he stroked a path down her satiny skin. As he came in contact with the heat of her flesh rather than the chill of death, Dean had to bite back the sobs that threatened to tear him apart.

"Thank you," he whispered, to a god he no longer believed in, when confronted with this proof of life.

Confident that she was alive if not well, Dean shook her harder and called to her, "Sara, come on honey, wake up for me."

His words and touch garnered no response, Sara's eyes remained closed, and her breathing so shallow Dean had trouble following the rise and fall of her back. Stroking her face, he called to her again, this time forcing a bit more anger into his tone.

"Sara, the kids need you, wake up," Dean cringed at his own order, knowing that it was one of the few challenges Sara couldn't resist.

Sure enough, she turned toward him and moaned softly.

"That's it. Come on, honey, open your eyes for me," Dean coaxed, as he gently brushed the hair away from her eyes. "Come on, Sara."

It took a few minutes but at last, Sara won the struggle to keep her eyes open. "What's wrong?" she rasped her voice only slightly above a whisper.

"Sara it's after eight-thirty in the morning. Jim's already on his way to school."

It was lucky for Dean that his reflexes were so good or else the back of Sara's head would of slammed into him as she jerked upright.

"Shit," she mumbled as she sat up and fumbled with the sheet, trying to cover her nakedness.

Not bothering with the sheet, she was really too tangled in it to use it anyway, Dean reached over and snagged the comforter that had been shoved aside and wrapped it around her in one swift movement. He then reached down, gathered her into his arms, and dropped down onto the bed. Even through the thickness of the blanket he could feel her shaking. So strong were the tremors that she felt as if she was going to come apart in his arms.

"D...Dean?" Sara stuttered, her voice full of confusion.

Something was wrong with Sara, of that Dean had no doubt. Right now, other than the fact that she was in her bedroom rather than the forest, she looked exactly as she had in his nightmares. Pale of skin, the flesh around her eyes nearly black in color, and lips void of any tinge of red, were only the beginning of her symptoms. Her skin felt hot to the touch and her voice sounded as if she had swallowed glass.

Over the last week, Dean had noticed that Sara was a paler version of her normally vibrant self. He had tried to convince himself that it was merely exhaustion, heartache, or even the pull of her never-ending responsibilities. However, those feeble attempts at rationalizing flew out the window in the face of Sara's current state.

Seeking to reassure himself as much as her, he replied, "It's me, you're okay. I'm sure it's just a cold. A day spent relaxing in bed and you'll be right as rain."

"I've never felt this bad before. I can't get warm."

"I know, sweetheart, I know. I'm gonna get you warm okay, just hold on." Dean made as if to return her to the bed, but Sara's grip increased and she hid her face against his chest.

"Please don't leave me, I can't be alone, don't leave me."

The sound of Sara begging was the last straw for Dean. Drawing in a deep breath, he prepared to shout the house down for his brother. When something needed killing, Dean was your man, however, when faced with idea of Sara being sick, he found himself desperately wishing for his 'geekboy' brother.

"Dean, what's wrong?"

The sound of Sam's voice had Dean silently praising his brother's spidey sense. "She's sick, Sam. I don't know what's wrong."

Sam slowly approached the bed, his brow furrowed in confusion. "She wasn't sick yesterday. In fact, she was fine all week. Why now?"

Dean didn't bother to respond, he knew his brother's question was simply his way of working through what was going on.

"I set Mike and Jess up with a movie," Sam murmured as he stopped next to the bed.

Sam's mention of her children seemed to act as a catalyst for Sara. A tinge of color flooded her cheeks and the shaking seemed to subside. "My kids?" she questioned, almost as if she had forgotten them for the moment.

"The kids are fine," Dean reassured her. "What happened last night?"

At his question, Sara stared up at him in confusion. "Nothing happened, I just don't feel good." Shoving at Dean's chest, she said, "let me up."

Dean exchanged glances with Sam, he found himself suddenly grateful that his brother was here to witness Sara's transformation. Otherwise he feared his little brother would say he was exaggerating. As they watched Sara seemed to steady, her breathing eased and the shadows around her eyes seemed less obvious.

"Dean, let me up," She said as she shoved against his chest once more, this time with some force.

Half tempted to drop her on her ass, as she began to struggle in earnest, Dean instead said, "Fine, but you're buck naked. Unless you want Sammy getting a peep show, you'd better cut the wiggling."

Sara froze at Dean's words, her eyes darted toward him as she blurted out, "Why the hell am I naked?"

"Sara, was Greg here?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Sam wished he could call them back, especially as he met his brother's pain-filled gaze.

888

This time when Sara shoved against his chest, he let her go. Off his lap she went, hitting the floor with a thump. The impact drove the air out of her lungs. Unconcerned with what she might be displaying, Sara lay on the floor struggling to draw breath into her pain-filled chest. Confusion still fogged her mind as she tried to make sense of what was going on. Problem was she remembered little of what happened ten minutes ago and even less of what had happened last night.

Her last clear memory was walking Greg to the door only minutes after the Winchesters had gone off to find a drink and a game of darts. Despite how kind the older man was, Sara hadn't wanted to encourage him anymore than she already had. She remembered thinking he deserved better, he deserved a woman that could give him her heart. That would never be Sara. She'd already given her heart away, and despite the fact that Dean had tried to return it, she still considered it his.

That was it. That was all she could remember, at least until a moment ago when Sam had walked in and found her reclining on Dean's lap. "I sent Greg home last night," she snapped as she pushed herself up a bit, and gathered the blanket around her.

Dean no longer stood by her side, instead he'd crossed the room and now hovered near the door. "Fine," he said and with those words, he turned and left.

"Sara," Sam pleaded. "He's worried about you. You don't look good."

Sara ran a quick hand through her hair and grimaced. She knew she couldn't look good, not when she felt like shit. "I'm fine, Sam. It's just a cold I'm sure." Sara pulled the edges of the blanket together and tried to stand. Regardless of the fact that she was feeling better and better, her legs still felt too weak to support her. Though she'd never admit it, the feel of Sam's strong grasp helping her up was welcome.

Once she'd settled onto the bed, she waved her hands. "Go on, Sam. I'll be down in a minute."

He took a step back and nodded. "You still feel too hot, make sure you take some aspirin for your fever. It'll help the aches too."

Sara sighed and nodded, "Yes, Nurse Nightingale, I will."

As she intended, Sam rolled his eyes at the snipe and stepped back. Sara allowed her head to drop forward and tried to focus on finding the resolve to stand. She thought she felt Sam's rough hand ghost over the back of her neck for a moment before he left her in peace.

888

As soon as Sam pulled the bedroom door shut, he took off for the stairs intent on catching his brother. Though he'd been the one to voice the words, he had no doubt that it wasn't a lover's tryst that had left Sara looking the way she did. Dean had been right, there was something going on and Sam needed to let him know now.

Sam's boot had just touched down on the last step when the front doorbell went off. A sinking feeling gripped his chest as he contemplated the door. He honestly wasn't sure what to do, he really just did not have it in him to face Greg at that moment. His choice was taken from him as the door was suddenly flung open.

"Hello," called the short dark-haired woman as she entered the house.

Sam actually groaned, he just couldn't help himself as he watched Sara's mother-in-law walk into the house. He'd met the tiny lady a few times in the past and honestly could have gone his whole life without running into her again. Blunt to the point of cruelness, she seemed unaware of just how her words could wound. In the years since her son had died, her one joy in life seemed to be in telling Sara just how many ways she was failing her husband's memory. Luckily, Sara was born with tough skin, enabling her to ignore the woman.

"Oh," she cried out as she pulled up short at the sight of Sam. "I thought you and that drifter brother of yours were gone for good."

Sam very nearly grinned at the unrepentant tone of voice the older woman used. He'd found long ago, that the only way he could keep from strangling the nasty brunette was to laugh at her snide remarks. It wasn't hard to find the humor in her words as she was usually just brutally honest.

At Sam's barely hidden grin, the older woman chuffed and brushed past him. "I see. Just here to siphon off a bit more money and god knows what before you take off again. How nice for you. Is my foolish daughter-in-law around?"

Sam lifted a brow and didn't bother to hid his grin this time. Really, you had to give the old lady credit she pulled no punches. "Sara's upstairs, she'll be down in a minute."

"Hm...yes well I guess it must be difficult for her to arise before ten in the morning. Where are my grandchildren, or have you sold them off for cash while their mother naps."

Sam nodded toward the kitchen, where Michael and Jess now sat eating their breakfast. "They're just finishing up."

Judy didn't bother to acknowledge Sam's words, she just pushed past him and headed into the room. At her cries of greeting and words of encouragement, Sam found himself, as always, surprised to find that the woman's treatment of Sara never spilled over to her grandkids. Sara claimed that Judy hadn't always been so nasty but the loss of her only son had driven her over the edge. Then again, Sara also claimed that the woman was smart as hell, so maybe she was aware that even one mean remark to the grandchildren would be the last word she would ever utter to her son's children. Though she refused to defend herself, Sara guarded her children with a fierceness that rivaled any lioness with her cubs.

"I'll let Sara know you're here," Sam said as he left the room at a near run.

Sara was half-way down the steps when Sam neared the stairway. The widow seemed a bit more put together. She was still obviously not feeling well, but she was up and under her own steam and the shadows under her eyes seemed less pronounced.

"Judy's here," Sam said with a grimace.

"Damn, oh, double damn," Sara said with a cry as she bolted back up the stairs. Calling over her shoulder, she said, "Keep her busy, I forgot the kids were due to sleep over there tonight."

Sam watched as Sara disappeared down the hallway and let loose a curse worthy of his brother. He had yet to understand how he managed to get drawn into this crap rather than Dean. Well, actually, he had to admit that his brother had done his share of ducking the verbal barbs that Judy threw his way. The woman seemed to relish in telling him just what she thought of his lifestyle and his interest in her son's widow.

"Sure, I can do that," Sam said as he turned back toward the kitchen. Of all the crap jobs he'd had to do in his life, including grave desecration and beheading vampires, keeping Judy occupied ranked right up there as one of the worst.

As he entered the room, he found her with a sponge in hand rubbing down the kitchen table as if she were prepping it for surgery. Only this morning he'd wiped down the table himself so he knew the woman was just making a point. "Sara will be right down. She's just gathering the kid's clothes."

"Goodness, Jess, we're going to have to have you stay at mom-mom's so you can see what cleaning actually looks like," Judy said as she continued to scrub at non-existent spots. "It's a shame you're mom's too busy doing her little writing thing to keep house."

"Mom's a good cleaner," Michael stated loyally, his brows drawn down in a grimace as he watched the older woman fuss about the kitchen. The little boy never made any pretenses of liking his grandmother. In fact, he made it clear that the only reason he was willing to visit with her was to watch out for Jessica.

Jess shoved a huge bite of cereal into her mouth and echoed her brother's statement, "'om's a good keener."

Sam couldn't help but drop Mike a wink as the older woman tried to find things to clean. Jess had her own way of dealing with her grandmother, the little girl staunchly refused to acknowledge the woman in any way. In fact, from what the boys said, while at Judy's house, she would speak only to them and eat only what the boys served her.

"Honey, now don't talk with your mouth filled. It's unladylike."

Jess's features screwed up tight as she exchanged glances with her brother. A shared grin later and both shoved huge spoonfuls of cereal into their mouths and broke into song.

Sam didn't bother to stay put for the encore. Confident that the kids would do a good job of keeping the older woman busy, he headed toward his bedroom. A quick glance around the empty space had Sam wondering where his brother had disappeared to. He still felt guilty for suggesting that Sara had spent the night with Greg. Especially since he hadn't meant it, he'd simply been wondering out loud whether it was possible the man had something to do with Sara's state.

Unsurprisingly, Sam finally located Dean in the garage. What was surprising was the fact that Dean was loading the car. "What are you doing?"

"Car's fixed, it's time we got out of here," Dean answered his voice devoid of emotion.

Sam stepped out into the garage and pulled the door shut behind him. Though he didn't want to leave Sara alone to face her 'monster-in-law,' as Dean had dubbed the woman, he also couldn't ignore the fact that Dean was hurting. "Dean, we can't leave, you were right."

Dean reached up and slammed the lid of the trunk closed.

Sam couldn't help but react to the pain in his brother's gaze. "Don't do this, she wasn't with him last night. You know that. Hell, you know her better than anyone, you know she would never-"

"I know, Sam, but someday there's gonna be someone and I just can't..." Dean's voice trailed off as he turned his back on his brother.

"Dean, listen, I saw a mark on Sara. I'm telling you, you were right. Something is hurting her. We can't leave," Sam blurted out. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he was sure that the bruise he'd glimpsed on the back of her neck had been too much like Brian's for his peace of mind.

The transformation was remarkable. One moment, Sam was staring at his broken-hearted brother and in next, he was facing a trained killer. "Where is she?"

Sam pointed toward the house. "Judy's here, she's taking the kids for the weekend. Sara's getting them ready to go now."

Dean clenched his jaw as he considered Sam's words. "She hates sending her kids to the in-laws."

Sam nodded and said, "Yeah but you know she won't refuse Judy's right to see them."

"She's too damn nice to the bitch. She ought to shut the door in her face."

Where Sam could see the warped humor in Sara's mother-in-law, Dean saw only the woman's censure of Sara's life. "Let's go, we'll send Judy on her way and figure out what the hell's going on."

888

Despite feeling like crap warmed over, Sara had quickly hustled toward the kid's rooms and gathered together their gear for their sleepover. She'd completely forgotten that this was Judy's weekend to keep the three children. Regardless of how Sara felt about her in-laws they were the only real family that her husband had left. She owed it to Jake to make sure his children got to know his parents. Problem was Judy had never been overly pleased with Jake's choice in wife and now that he was gone the older woman no longer bothered to temper her words. That left Sara in the awkward position of having to either cut the woman out of their lives or to simply ignore the digs. Sara chose to ignore, at least as long as she could.

She was well aware that someday, there would most likely be a rebellion and she'd no longer be able to convince her kids to go, especially Michael. The self-proclaimed protector of the family bristled every time he was forced to spend time in his grandmother's company. He didn't appreciate the way his grandparent's treated Sara and as he'd grown older and could understand more of the undertone behind their speech he was rapidly becoming more and more insistent that he wanted nothing to do with them. Right now Sara was using her very best powers of persuasion to convince the boy that Jess and Jimmy needed him to get him to go. Once he realized it wasn't necessarily true there'd be no getting him to stay over night.

Sara bent over with a sigh, she just couldn't figure out when her life had become so complicated. Back when the kids were babes she hadn't had to worry about other people's feelings, she simply did what she wanted and damn the consequences. It was only as they'd grown older and she'd begun to consider their future that she'd began to feel overwhelmed and alone.

As Sara straightened she gasped in pain. A bolt of lightening seemed to ricochet through her head, leaving her breathless from the agony. Unable to help herself she dropped to her knees with a cry, her hands gripping the sides of her head. Suddenly Dean's earlier insistence that she seemed unwell was driven home. In fact, it was driven straight through her forehead with what felt like a large iron spike. The tiredness she could ignore, after all, things had been tense lately to say the least, but the headache was definitely new. The pain was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before and even as it eased she still wasn't sure that she wasn't about to lose what was left of Dean's spaghetti dinner right there on Jess's light purple carpet.

It took nearly ten minutes of deep breathing before the pain finally eased slightly, allowing Sara to lift her head from the carpet. With a groan she realized that she'd dropped Jessie's bag, spilling her clothes onto the floor. Sara quickly gathered up the contents of the bag and gained her feet. As she stood, one hand out to try and steady herself, she realized that she'd left her mother-in-law alone with the Winchesters for nearly a half-hour. Expecting the worse, Sara made her way downstairs.

She entered the kitchen and set the two bags she'd gathered on the kitchen table. Unsurprisingly, Judy held a sponge in her hand and was busy scrubbing down the oven. "You don't have to do that, Mom," Sara said, internally cringing at using the word mom around this woman.

"Nonsense, I don't mind. Besides," she said with a disparaging glance, "I can see you must be too exhausted to clean properly."

Sara shut her eyes at the woman's comment and counted to ten. Then she counted to ten again, hoping that this time she'd actually feel calmer. "Yes, well, knock yourself out. I have the kids stuff and the keys to the van."

Whenever the kids stayed with Judy, Sara lent the older woman her van. Her excuse was that it was easier than installing Jess's car seat in Judy's car but the reality was it made the kids feel better about the separation. Separation wasn't something the Powers' family dealt well with, as a whole Sara and her children preferred to stick together.

For Sara it was a matter of protection. Like any mother, she worried about the dangers that could befall her children every time they left the house. However, unlike other mother's those dangers weren't limited to car crashes and 'stranger danger'. For Sara she not only worried about the everyday evil that lurked outside her front door, but also the supernatural evil. The house though not a deterrent to human devils, was protected with every type of spell, symbol and icon that Bobby and the Winchesters could think of.

Despite the attempt by Gordon to hurt her family there was no place on earth that Sara felt safer. With a sigh, she called to the kids. "Alright, kiddo's as much as mom-mom likes to clean our house she needs to get going." Sara turned toward her mother-in-law and asked, "Mike's to be at school by noon, and you'll be picking them both up at three-fifteen. I already notified the school."

Judy held her arms out to Jess and said, "Yup, come on baby, let's hustle."

Predictably, Jess crossed her arms and shot Judy the dirtiest look she could manage. "I not a baby, I a big girl."

"Well, big girl, why don't you grab your wubby and give your mom a hug. Mom-mom wants to head out," Dean said as he entered the kitchen.

The little blond sent Dean a heartfelt smile and jumped from her seat with her ragged wubby in hand. Holding her arms out to Sara, she smiled and said, "Bye, mom, I wuv you."

Sara felt the little girl's smile pierce her heart. Taking a knee, she swooped the child up into her arms and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Behave, Jess, you here me. And remember this time no using Pop-pop's toothbrush, he doesn't like it."

Jess scrunched her face and said, "Put it on the sink."

With a sigh Sara reminded the little girl, "It's not that you didn't put it back, babe, it's that people don't share toothbrushes." Sara had been trying with little success to explain that there were simply certain things you didn't share.

"Come on, Michael, how about you get Jessie in the car?" Sam asked as he gestured to the children.

Michael paused only long enough to wrap his slim arms around Sara's waist and then he was gone, chattering to Jessie as he headed for the garage, Sam trailing behind with the kids bags.

As Dean's entered the room Judy's lips had pursed in irritation and he couldn't help but grin in response. The woman hated him and the feeling was quite mutual. As determined as Judy was to have Sara re-marry, she made it clear that she wanted to pick the prospective husband. That left Dean Winchester far out of the running. The fact that Sara was obviously drawn to the elder Winchester only served to piss her mother-in-law off. For that reason alone, Dean broke his no touching rule and approached Sara's side. Unconcerned that Sara would re-buff him, Dean wrapped his arm around her waist and watched as the tiny brunette's face flushed red with anger.

"Well, I thought my daughter-in-law would have been smart enough to have changed the locks after your last visit," Judy said, her aim to cause pain transparent.

Dean shifted slightly, drawing Sara even closer and said, "Well, that's funny, because I could say the same thing about you."

"Ha," Sara cried with glee to Dean's utter delight.

Before she could manage to get her hand over her mouth he noticed her brilliant smile. As Dean felt the silent laughter move through her he found himself realizing that he hadn't seen her truly smile in far too long. He dropped Sara a wink before returning his gaze to Judy.

"Daughter, I understand Greg was here rather late last night," Judy stated her eyes narrowed in anticipation.

Dean felt the arrow hit home, but retained his faint grin. "Yes, we..." here Dean brushed his lips lightly against Sara's hair, "invited him for dinner."

Judy opened her mouth her intention obvious, when a voice interrupted.

"Kids are in the car, and unless you want Mike to make good on his threat to drive you might want to get going."

Dean actually found himself disappointed in Sam's interruption, he would love to have heard more about Greg from the woman that had first introduced him to Sara.

Judy frowned fiercely in Dean's direction for a moment more before she finally moved out. "I'll return them Sunday morning, do try and get out of bed to answer the door," was her parting shot as she gathered her purse, and coat, and headed for the garage.

It wasn't until he watched Judy leave the room that he realized that Sara was leaning rather heavily on him. Surprised, but grateful, she had forgiven him for his earlier desertion, he turned to her.

"Sara?" he questioned at the sight of her half-closed eyes, her rapid breathing and the trail of tears that were leaking down her cheeks.

"Sara," he repeated as he bent his knees and swept her into his arms. "Sam!"

"I'm here, let's get her to the couch," Sam said as he led the way toward the living room.

As Dean approached the caramel color suede couch he found that he couldn't bring himself to release her. Not while she was hurting, and it was obvious that she was hurting. Rather than set her down, he sat, cradling her in his arms. Speaking softly, Dean called to Sara in desperation, "Sara, Sara, honey...please Sara, open your eyes. Tell me what hurts."

"Here," Sam said quietly as he thrust a damp washcloth in Dean's hand.

Until the moment that Sam had spoken up, Dean had forgotten his brother was even in the room. Unsure of what hurt, Dean carefully applied the wet cloth to her forehead. Even in the few minutes he'd had her in his arms he'd noticed the her body heat rising. She now felt nearly as hot as she had when she woke.

"Dean?" Sara called out, her eyes opening only a fraction.

"I'm here, baby. I've got you," Dean reassured, hating the panicky sound of his own voice but unable to banish it.

"Dean...please...don't leave me, please."

Sara's plaintive words and the continued increase in her body temperature had Dean turning to his brother. "Sam, what is this? What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know, Dean. Let me see the wound again."

Unwilling to let her go, Dean shifted her slightly to allow Sam access to the back of her neck. Once Sam parted Sara's hair, Dean had no problem seeing the deep purple bruise on the base of her skull. His brother was right, the mark was perfectly round and about the size of a half-dollar. Like Brian's the center of the bruise held one small hole, similar to a mosquito bite only larger. Sam reached out and carefully traced the mark, bringing forth a cry from Sara.

"Dean, don't go," she cried out, her voice cracking in its intensity,

The familiar weight of his brother's hand fell upon Dean's shoulder. He allowed himself to take comfort from the younger man's touch for only a moment before he pleaded, "Please, Sam, find out what's wrong."

"I will, Dean I promise."

A feeling of desperation stole over Dean at sound of pity in his brother's voice. Unable to answer, Sam, Dean simply nodded and pressed the now-warming cloth to Sara's face. As he watched her twist and writhe in pain, he couldn't help but think she was caught in her own version of hell. Determined to give her comfort, Dean raised her up slightly and pressed his lips to her ear. Not bothering with any specific words, he spoke softly to her, assuring her over and over again that he was with her and would not leave.

**Chapter End Notes:**

Okay just a disclaimer, no Mother-in-laws were harmed in the making of this story... ;) Hope you enjoyed - Kel


	11. Chapter 11

"We need to figure out what's wrong," Dean muttered as he shifted slightly, settling Sara more comfortably against his chest. As promised, he hadn't left her side once in the nearly three hours she'd been unconscious.

His brother had joined the vigil bringing his laptop into the living room, he'd turned Sara's rug into research central. Between Sam's trips to and from the printer in Sara's office, the younger Winchester had done little more than mutter at his computer and keep the coffee pot filled.

Dean had tried making sense of the pages spread out at his feet, but there seemed to be no working order so far as he could tell. Twice now he'd questioned Sam on his findings but after having the younger man threaten to do him bodily harm, Dean figured he'd back off a bit.

That, however, was before Sara lapsed into a coma for lack of a better word. Well, not a coma according to Sam, Dean muttered to himself.

"She's not in a coma, Dean. How many times do I have to tell you?" Sam snapped in response to Dean's grumbling. The younger man moved to where Dean sat on the couch, Sara curled up on his lap. As he knelt down, he placed one hand on Sara's head. "Sara," he called.

It took a few moments of Sam's prodding, but at last Sara's lids lifted just a bit and her dull stare focused on Sam. "Sam?" she croaked.

"Yeah, it's me. I'm just checking in. How are you feeling?"

Sara's eyes slipped closed once more and she frowned. "I'm fine, where are the kids?"

Sam had answered this question nearly a dozen times now and yet each time his heart clenched for the worry that was evident in Sara's whispered words. "They're with Dean, remember?"

Sara smiled softly believing the lie, the tension that gripped her body eased. Her trust in Dean absolute. With a mumbled, "good," the woman turned slightly and was back to sleep nearly instantly.

"She's still really out of it," Dean said trying to hold back the panic he felt. The first flush of relief that Dean had felt earlier when he'd awoken Sara had quickly turned to outright fear as she'd freaked out over the news that her mother-in-law had her kids. Dean and Sam had quickly learned they were better off, telling the mother of three that Dean was with the children. For some reason, in Sara's fever ridden mind, she never realized that Dean was the cushion she was so comfortably curled up on.

Sam shook his head in reply. "Actually, I think she's getting better. It was easier to wake her up, plus her fever's starting to break."

Now that Sam had pointed it out, Dean realized his brother was right. Sara's forehead did feel cooler, and the chills that had plagued her earlier had ceased. "I hope so, Sam. Cause I'm at a loss as to what's wrong with her."

Sam moved away and stared down at the papers scattered around on the floor. "Well, we know what it's not. I mean that's gotta help right?"

888

Two hours later had Dean contemplating his baby brother's words. Dean disagreed with Sam, but was unable to convince his brother. In Dean's mind the only explanation for Sara's condition was the only factor of her life that had changed in the past couple months, namely Greg. His little brother, on the other hand, stubbornly refused to listen to reasoning. His sole argument was the fact that Greg had passed every test they'd thrown at him, not to mention the fact that he'd entered the house regardless of the measures in place to repel the supernatural.

"Don't start, Dean. We don't know that he has anything to do with what's happening to her," Sam argued, his voice raising in anger.

"Start? Hell, I didn't say a word." Dean pressed his lips together willing himself to hold onto his patience despite Sam's thick headedness.

"Yeah, well I know what you're thinking," Sam snapped, his own ability to find an answer causing him to vent his frustration.

So much for peace, Dean thought as he snarled, "Listen, you depend on your books and I trust my gut, and in this case my instincts are screaming Greg's name. The bastard did this to her, and if you'd only allow me to go track the son of a bitch down then I could prove it."

Sam grabbed their father's book off the floor and began thumbing through it at random. "Poltergeist, demon, ghost, vampire, you name it and we tested Greg for it. So explain to me how he's involved."

Dean rose to the bait, despite the fact they'd already discussed this issue to death, "I'll tell you how. Just because we haven't come across what he is doesn't prove his innocence. It only proves our ignorance."

"Oh, so now it's my ignorance that's draggin' us down. Is that it? It's my fault I can't find a reason for that mark."

"No, Sam, that's not what I said. I just don't get why you can't trust me for once and forgo the need to think it to death," Dean's voice overlapped his brother, both near shouting to get their points across.

"Guys?"

"You're gut, that's what I'm supposed to trust? Come on, Dean. You hate this guy and you're looking for a reason, any reason to stake the man."

"When I said we should stake him I just mean that we needed to find a way to deal with him, Sam. I wasn't planning on actually driving a stake through his heart. Though now that you mention it-"

"BOYS," Sara shouted at last, interrupting the tirade of angry words that were being tossed back and forth like a malicious baseball.

Dean looked down to see Sara staring at him, the paleness of her skin giving way to a slight flush born of anger. She was blinking rapidly as if to clear away the fog that had held her in its grip. Even as he watched her eyes, they seemed to clear, their bright depths sparkling with natural good humor.

"Let me up," she said, struggling to sit up on her own.

"Carefully," Dean whispered as he helped her to sit. Hands hovering by her side, he held himself ready to catch her if she failed. It was only once he was certain she held steady that he risked standing up.

"I'm fine," Sara said as she waved a hand in reassurance.

Sam stepped forward and replied, "You're not fine, Sara, far from it in fact."

The exaggerated frown that marred Sara's features would have been funny in nearly any other circumstance. Here, now, however, it only served to remind Dean of just how much he'd missed her. The entire week had been filled with moments like this one, little facet's of Sara's personality that had Dean's heart clenching in agony. Sara was funny, sweet, smart and most of all self-reliant. She was everything and anything that Dean had ever wanted in a woman.

"Stop looking at me like I'm a butterfly pinned to a board," the woman of his dreams snapped.

Dean couldn't help but chuckle at her small show of temper. Sara's rage against the machine of life was another reminder of why he'd fallen so hard for her. Anyone that could spit in the eye of fate and wrestle her destiny into some semblance of order was well appreciated by the older hunter. "I'm not staring, I'm concerned," Dean answered as he inwardly chuckled at her dramatic eye-roll. The relief he felt over Sara's apparent recovery was tempered only by the knowledge that whatever was wrong, hadn't been fixed. It had simply withdrawn for the moment.

"How much do you remember, Sara?" Sam questioned his inner-geek showing as he leaned forward in eagerness.

"Judy was here. I had packed up the kids." It was obvious by the way that Sara lightly massaged her forehead she was still suffering some symptoms.

Dean reached toward the end table and palmed the bottle of aspirin that sat there. Deftly he opened the child-proof cap and tipped out two white pills. "Here, this'll help. Can't hurt the fever also."

"She's still warm," Sam said his large hand darting forward to press against Sara's forehead.

"I'm not two, Sam. Stop playing doctor."

The sight of Sara slapping Sam's hand away brought back Dean's smile. He had to admit he loved it when Sara acted the part of a big sis to Sam. It did the younger man good to see that his doe eyes didn't work on everyone.

Before Dean could open his mouth, okay well his mouth was already open, but before he could utter a word, Sara turned toward him and snapped.

"Don't say it."

Dean shrugged indicating his innocence and said, "What, I wasn't going to say anything."

With a roll of her eyes, Sara indicated she didn't believe a word Dean was saying. "Yeah, right. So, I don't understand? What happened?"

"No sooner was Judy out of the house when you collapsed," Sam said his worried gaze searching Sara's pale face for any clue as to what had happened.

Sara frowned and said, "I passed out?"

Dean was the one to answer, "No, actually you weren't completely unconscious, at least not until your fever spiked and you couldn't seem to stay awake."

Sara pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes with a sigh. At last she asked, "How long was I out this time?"

"This time?" Dean questioned, his voice low and monotone. To anyone that knew the older hunter well the tone was a sure sign of impending danger.

Sara shrugged and looked away refusing to be scolded by the man that had walked out on her. It was Sam's softly spoken, "Sara" that had her reluctantly answering.

"A couple times in the last few weeks I've woken up feeling like I've lost time."

"And, what? It never occurred to you to call us. To let us know you were in danger?"

Sara stood on shaky legs and stepped away from the couch and Dean. "Call you? You left us, Dean. What'd you think? We'd be pen pals, exchange Christmas cards and bake each other fruit cake. I wasn't feeling well, I figured it was a cold or something, I surely wasn't going to chase after you whining about my sudden lack of energy."

As always, when backed against a wall, Dean lashed out. "Nice to know you didn't mean it when you said that Sam and I would always be a part of your life."

The moment the words left his mouth, Dean wished he could have them back. He hadn't meant it. Sara was loyal to a fault and he had no right to pretend otherwise. "Sara, I'm sorry, I-"

Sara held up one hand and interrupted, "Don't it's fine." With those words she turned toward Sam, practically knocking Dean over with her cold shoulder. He should have known she wouldn't hear his apology. He'd hurt her in so many ways with that single stupid sentence.

"Sam, I don't understand. Why do you think it's something supernatural? Why not an illness?"

Dean shook his head imperceptibly at his brother hoping to deter Sam from divulging too much information. Brian's death would not help matters now and would only serve to weaken Sara even further.

"There's a mark, on the back of your neck. It's, uh, something we've seen in the past."

Sara's hand automatically went toward her neck, feeling for the bruise that Sam and Dean had seen earlier. "A mark, but I mean I can't feel anything there. And where did you see it before?"

Sam moved forward, and lifted Sara's thick honey brown hair off the nape of her neck. "It's right..."

"Sam," Dean barked as Sam's voice trailed off.

"The mark's gone, Dean."

Not bothering with niceties, Dean strode over to Sara and wrapped one hand around her slim throat, holding her immobile. As he tilted her head forward, he pushed back her hair revealing her unblemished neck.

"Dean, back off," Sara said as she struggled in the hunter's strong grip.

"Stand still," he snapped determined to find some trace of the bruise he and Sam had so clearly seen early.

"Ow," Dean shouted as Sara's foot connected with his shin. Out of instinct he released her and she promptly backed away, rubbing a hand across the back of her neck.

"What the hell, Sara?" Dean growled holding his aching leg.

"What the hell, Dean? What are you doing, there's no mark."

Sam stepped forward and said, "But there was, Sara. We saw it this morning. I don't know what's happened to make it fade but..."

Dean was sick of this. Killing is what he needed to be doing right now, not wasting time. "Sam, load up let's go get Greg."

Determined to ignore his brother's sigh, Dean headed toward the back bedroom already working through plans to track Greg down.

"Greg? Wait a minute, what's Greg got to do with this?" Sara asked Sam as the younger hunter shifted uncomfortably.

"Dean thinks he's responsible for-"

Sara threw up her hands and marched after the elder Winchester. Dean could hear her coming behind him and he quickly turned to meet her head on. "I don't think. I know. All this trouble started when he came into your life. That's not a coincidence that's a fact."

"All this," here Sara jabbed her finger into Dean's chest, "crap, started when you left. So now you're trying to tell me that the first man that's shown any interest in me, at all, is a freak?"

Dean rocked back on his heels, his hand going up to rub the spot she'd poked. "Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying. If I'd know you were going to get suckered by the first guy looking to climb into your pants-"

Sara's ringing slap knocked every bit of anger out of Dean's system. Even as he held a hand up to his stinging cheek he couldn't help the waves of guilt that hit him harder than Sara ever could. He didn't even try to apologize, he knew there was nothing he could say that would make things right. Instead, he stepped back and turned his back on her. "It's Greg, and you can ignore that all you want, but I know. Something's not right with him." With those words, Dean left the room, intent on getting some air.

The hours of worry over Sara combined with the stress of being home once more was too much. He needed a break, something other than Sara and their messed up relationship to focus on.

888

Sara watched Dean turn and leave, her heart breaking in two as he walked out of her house. Immediately, her eyes sought out Sam, reassuring herself that the elder Winchester wouldn't leave his brother, no matter how badly she'd screwed up. And boy had she screwed up. It was just her feelings of inadequacy that had begun when Dean had left, had only grown as she'd struggled these past few months to deal with the loss. Then, when you factor in the fact that Greg had been the only man to even get close to her, it left her feeling even more drained.

Unsure of what came next, Sara turned toward Sam to ask his advice. After all, if there were anyone capable of helping her mend what she'd broken, it was Sam.

The horrified expression on his face, only increased Sara's upset. She'd let her emotions get away from her and that was never a good thing. Dean, in his own warped and weird way was trying to help, and typical Dean, helping meant killing whatever was closest. In this case that meant Greg.

"I don't know what's going on, Sam. But, I can tell you it's not Greg. I'm not quite as dumb as your brother thinks I am. I've checked him out in a million different ways." Sara blinked back the tears that threatened as she met Sam's sympathetic gaze. "I would never allow anyone or anything to harm my kids, you, know that, Sam."

Sam nodded and said, "Sara, you don't have to tell me. I've seen you in action. Dean's just, well he's Dean. And for better or worse, in our world if something seems to be wrong, it is."

Sara blew out a breath and sighed, despite what she believed, the way she felt right now made her think that Sam and Dean were right. There was something wrong. "I need coffee," she said as she led the way to the kitchen. She still felt sluggish and feverish and though she was loathe to admit it, she knew it was only a matter of time before Sam figured it out. The younger Winchester was nothing if not observant.

"Dean, didn't mean it," Sam blurted as they settled to the kitchen table with their coffee. "I mean he knows you'd never..." Sam cleared his throat, his face reddening slightly as Sara's eyes met his.

"I'd never..." Sara couldn't help but tease at the highly uncomfortable look on the younger man's face.

Sam's face flushed a bit more as he rolled his eyes. "You really have picked up every one of my brother's bad habits."

Sara felt the smile slip from her face as she nodded. "Yeah, I guess I have."

The weight of Sam's gaze made Sara look up. The younger man stared at her, his face full of compassion. As always part of Sara wanted to push Sam away, to preserve her pride and keep a stiff upper lip. However, when faced with his sympathetic gaze, she felt her own will crumble. As the tears began to make their way down her face, Sara felt Sam's strong arms wrap around her.

888

"You planning on hiding out here all night?" Sam questioned as he slipped inside the garage, Jack by his side.

"How is she?" was Dean's muffled reply. The older man had the hood of the Impala raised and was bent over the big engine.

"Tired, weak, feverish and guilty," Sam offered as he hiked himself up and into the front seat of Sara's Jeep, the off-road vehicle occupied the bay next to the big black Chevy.

This time Dean's head snapped up and his bright green gaze met Sam's. "Guilty? Why the hell's she feeling guilty? I'm the one that lost it."

Sam didn't bother to make excuses for Dean, the same way he'd refused to offer them to Sara while the older woman sobbed into his shoulder. Both Sara and Dean had said some harsh words, however, despite the accusations that had been thrown like punches, each one guaranteed to draw blood, the fight went deeper than either would admit.

How deep it went was something Sam hadn't realized until today. Though, looking back, he supposed he should have guessed, at least in Dean's case. Ignoring his brother's question, Sam said, "She thinks you don't want her anymore, Dean."

Dean looked down, his hands now resting lightly on his hips, and said, "That's dumb."

Sam shrugged, settled back in his seat, hands resting lightly on the wheel and countered, "How would you feel if you were a woman five years older than the man you were crazy about, then toss in three kids, a mortgage, and an insane mother-in-law. Now take all that and factor in an extra ten pounds clinging to your ass-"

Even in the dim light of the garage, Sam could see the fire in his brother's eyes, as the other man snapped, "There's not an inch of Sara's body that isn't sexy as hell.

Sam held back his grin and raised his hands in surrender. "I'm just telling you what the lady said."

"How the hell can she think that?" Dean muttered as he turned back toward the car. Jack, perhaps sensing the older man's upset moved to his side and settled himself at Dean's feet.

"Probably because the only man she's cared about since her husband was brutally murdered, suddenly up and left her."

Dean leaned forward resting his hands on the frame of the black car. "It had nothing to do with Sara. It was never a question of whether or not she was good enough for me."

Sam nodded his agreement and pinned his gaze to his brother. Here it was, the point where he ran the risk of getting clocked by the elder Winchester. "I know it had nothing to do with her. It was always about you. You left her cause who would want a 'closing in on thirty, adrenaline junkie, with no mortgage, no money, and a record, a man that no longer exists since he was technically buried in St. Louis.'"

"Exactly," Dean breathed his voice so low Sam almost missed the word.

Sam had to admit he hadn't expected to reach this point so quickly. He thought for sure his brother would continue to push the 'she's in danger' angle. Denial for Dean was a deeply ingrained survival instinct and not something he set aside lightly.

"Shit, Dean," Sam replied at his brother's easy acceptance. It physically hurt, Sam to know his brother felt beneath Sara, especially, when he knew for a fact that the widow would be the first to disagree.

Sam raked a hand back through his hair, as he carefully contemplated his next argument. At last, he chose honesty. "I understand where you're coming from, Dean."

That earned Sam a frown. No one would ever suggest to Dean that his baby brother wasn't as close to perfect as it was possible to be, especially not Sam himself. "Who said you weren't good enough?"

Sam grimaced and wrenched his gaze from his brother's sharp stare. "Me, just about every minute I spent with Jess?"

Determined to help his brother, Sam embraced the pain that made his breath hitch and continued, "God, Dean, She was...incredible. You know? Smart, strong, funny and beautiful, inside and out. She never once made me feel inadequate, but, I always knew I wasn't good enough for her."

Sam passed a hand across his eyes and continued, "She...she was class in every sense of the word. She came from old money, was the fourth in a long line of Moore's to attend Stanford. Her childhood consisted of piano recitals and private schools. I mean," Sam gave a wry chuckle, "they had a summer house in Martha's Vineyard."

Dean whistled appreciatively and grinned. "Yeah, I see what you mean. Closest thing we had to a summer home was Bobby's garage."

Sam choked back a laugh, glad for his brother's attempt at humor. "Exactly, and here I come with my second hand clothes, my collection of odd scars, and no past. She knew, Dean, oh, not about the supernatural, but she knew I was running far and fast from something. And see the thing is, despite what I kept from her, she loved me anyway."

Dean nodded and leaned against the car. "I hear what you're saying, kid, I do and I get it. But it's not the same. By staying I'm asking Sara to take what I am, not some alternate reality me."

Sam leaned forward slightly and said, "You're right. But see the thing is, Dean, you're forgetting just how much you and Sara have in common."

Dean snorted and rubbed his neck in nervousness. "Come on, Sam, Sara and I are worlds apart."

Desperate to knock some sense into his brother, Sam held up one finger. "One, you've both lost people you love to the supernatural. Two," Sam said as he raised another digit, "you both were left to hold together your families. Three, you're both highly protective, you love nothing more than to mother hen people."

"I don't 'mother hen' people," Dean growled, obviously taking offense at the idea that he was anything less than an absolute killer.

Sam rolled his eyes and continued, "Whatever you say, Terminator. Anyway you're also two of the most mistrustful people I know."

As Sam had hoped, Dean laughed at the last shared trait. "Yeah, ain't that the truth. I can't imagine what she pulled on poor Greg before deciding he was okay."

With a laugh, Sam said, "Well, let's put it this way. Greg's gotta be wondering why Sara's beer always tastes so watered down."

This time, Sam joined in as Dean's laughter rang through the garage. It took nearly ten minutes for Sam to finally catch his breath and even then the laughter threatened to start all over again every time he caught Dean's eye.

At last, Dean gasped, "So what you're trying to say is we belong together?"

Sam sobered as he watched Jack, disturbed by all the noise, wander out of the garage into the late afternoon air. "No, what I'm saying is, if you love her despite her faults and she can see past yours, then hold on tight to each other. Because love like that doesn't happen often."

Dean's face clouded over with guilt at Sam's words. "Sam, I know it must be-"

His brother's words were suddenly drowned out by the sound of furious barking. Both men immediately went on alert. The Winchesters were more than familiar with all the different aspects of Jack speak. The furious, unceasing, staccato sound he was making now didn't bode well.

888

As Dean slipped out of the garage, Sam only steps behind him, he found himself cursing the fact that he was unarmed except for the knife in his boot. He normally didn't bother to arm himself when in and about Sara's. The protection the house offered, and the idea of the kids coming across his weapon was reason enough not to bother.

Drawn on by the dog's thunderous barking, Dean headed toward the old barn that rested near the driveway. A leftover from the original farm that once sat on Sara's property, the building no longer housed animals. Instead, it was keeper of the family's bicycles and various outdoor equipment. The dog stood just before the double wide crimson doors. His bear-like feet were spread wide, his stance was threatening, head down, and tail still, the dog looked possessed at the very least. Even as the brothers eased up along side him, the animal continued to hold the barn at bay.

As Dean gained his side, he dropped a hand to Jack's broad, brown back. He could feel the tension that gripped the dog's powerful body. He could almost feel sorry for whatever the animal set his sights on right now.

"He's scared of something," Sam said indicating the old barn with a nod of his head.

Sam was right, Jack was never one to rant and rave, unless your name was Greg. Dean turned toward Sam and opened his mouth to comment.

"It's not Greg, let it go, Dean," Sam said with a roll of his eyes and a gesture toward the barn doors. "Let's see what it is."

Confident he'd be proven right in the end, Dean pulled the knife from his boot and approached the door. With a quick flick he flipped the latch and stepped back to allow the doors to swing open. As soon as their was enough space to fit, Jack barreled through despite Sam's command to stay.

Dean had never seen Jack disobey an order before and his surprise caused him to hesitate. Though he couldn't see far into the dark gloom of the shed, he could clearly hear Jack's continued growls. At last he darted after the dog, Sam hot on his heels. Dean made it a foot inside the darkened barn before he tripped over a rake and hit the ground with a groan. His brother, already committed to following, was unable to stop his momentum before he landed flat out on top of Dean.

As a hundred and ninety pounds of shaggy haired baby brother landed on top of him, Dean's breath was forced out of his chest. Unable to draw in air, Dean lay for a moment gathering his wits. Jack's growls had lessened and were now interspersed with whimpers. "Get off me, Sam," Dean at last managed to wheeze as he shoved at his brother's back. The younger Winchester had landed hard on top of Dean, his shoulder digging into the elder hunter's chest.

At last Sam gathered his Gumby limbs and climbed off him, managing to shove his elbow into Dean's throat for good measure.

"Sorry," Sam sputtered as he rubbed his shoulder.

"Damn, Sam, I think you cracked a rib."

Leaning forward, Sam offered Dean a hand up. "Sorry, man. I just wasn't expecting you to be there."

Dean took the pro-offered hand and allowed his brother to pull him to his feet. "Yeah, well I guess running head-long into Sara's gardening shed wasn't the brightest idea. Where's Jack?"

Sam gestured toward the far corner and headed off in that direction. Jack had stopped growling completely but was whining almost incessantly. "I think he found whatever it was."

Dean wrapped an arm around his ribs and muttered, "Yeah, well I'm telling you, we find he's cornered a raccoon and it's no more 'Snausages' for him."

"I'm fine as long as it isn't a skunk."

Huh, thought Dean, as he dropped back a bit farther. He'd forgotten about the story Sara had told them of the time Jack had cornered a skunk inside the garden fence. Dropping back, even farther, Dean allowed Sam to have the honors. He had no desire to meet up with some little woodland creature that would be happy to skunk him or even worse shoot quills at him.

Sam never seemed to realize he was walking forward alone. At last the big man reached Jack's side and with a low curse he dropped to the ground.

"Sam," Dean called. Unhappy he could no longer see Sam through the clutter, he moved forward to stand by his brother. "What's going on?"

Sam turned and gestured, "I hate to say it but, 'I told you so'."

Dean looked past his brother and saw Greg lying on the floorboards, his sightless eyes leaving the older hunter with no doubt that his brother was right. Greg hadn't been the danger. "What the hell, Sam?"

Sam shrugged and answered, "Beats me, but it can't be good. Look." Sam pointed toward Greg's neck where a small but perfect circular bruise rested just below his jaw.

Jack, no longer whimpering, crawled forward and nuzzled Dean's side. Out of habit, Dean dropped a hand to the dog's thick coat and closed his eyes. Dean's number one suspect had just showed up dead in Sara's garage, leaving the brothers without a clue as to what was going on. "Damnit, Sam."

"We'll figure this out, Dean. I promise you, we will."

Dean nodded and stood, his gaze traveling the length of the corpse. "Good, cause I'm so ready to kill whatever's doing this."


	12. Chapter 12

"Any clues?" Dean asked his brother as he watched Sam examine the wound that rested just under Greg's chin.

"Honestly, no. But, we can be certain this has something to do with Sara. It's a little too coincidental that both men knew her."

Dean took a knee next to his brother and nodded. "Yeah, plus, whatever it was had Brian on alert. I noticed he had my cell phone number written on a paper on his desk. I'm thinking that whatever killed him, did it to keep him from warning me."

Sam pulled out his cell phone and snapped a shot of the bruise, within minutes, the picture, plus an explanation of what was wrong, was headed cross country toward Bobby. Though, the older man was too far away to make it back to Pennsylvania, his knowledge of the weird and obscure could definitely come in handy. "Yeah, but that doesn't make sense, I mean leaving Greg dead in the storage shed is a pretty big calling card."

"That's true, but if it weren't for Jack, weeks could have gone by and he might have gone unfound. It's not like Sara or the kids are in here all that often."

Sam nodded his agreement and stood. As he did his phone rang, with a glance and a grin at the caller ID, Sam answered, "Hey, Bobby."

Even from where Dean stood he could clearly hear the older hunter's irate voice. Leaving his brother to talk geek with Bobby, Dean stepped out of the shed and cast a glance about the yard. All appeared quiet, though Dean had long ago learned not to trust appearances. The swath of lawn that encircled the house was clear of all obstacles, not a tree or bush offered cover to anything that might be hiding. However, that didn't mean the house was impregnable, as Gordon had so helpfully pointed out last year.

It did however, have every type of supernatural protection that could be offered. "How the hell's it getting to her? I mean unless it's sucking on her at the local Piggly Wiggly it shouldn't be able to get past the house's defenses," Dean muttered to himself, not really expecting a response.

"Beats me, but Bobby's on the case. He's going to pawn his job off on another hunter and head for home and his library. In the meantime, he's calling in favors looking for answers." Sam stepped up beside his brother as he put away his phone.

"Good, cause we ain't leaving this place until it's dead and done. I won't have the son of a bitch get to her while we're out chasing down leads."

"Yeah, there's little the local library can offer that I can't find in Sara's office anyway."

Dean nodded and turned toward the shed. "Put the lock on the door," Dean said indicating the padlock that hung open on the latch. "I don't want her knowing about Greg or Brian yet. She's not well, telling her they're both dead will only upset her."

"She's got every reason to be upset, Dean. I think we should come clean."

"No," Dean said, shaking his head in response to his brother's stubborn look. "Listen, if we can't hunt this thing down and kill it by Sunday then I'm all for telling her, otherwise I don't see the point in hurting her even more."

At last, Sam caved, with a nod he pulled the door to the shed closed and wiped down the door handle. "We keep too many secrets around here."

Dean heard his brother's mutter and almost questioned the comment. However, his attention was suddenly caught by a fierce blast of wind that roared through the backyard. So strong was the gust that Dean found himself leaning forward into the current. Then, as quickly as it came up, the wind died down, leaving only the faintest trace of a breeze behind.

"Well, that was weird."

"Seriously weird," Sam agreed.

Dean felt a sudden bout of urgency egging him on to find Sara and ensure she was all right. Sam and Jack seemed to agree, because as he turned and began jogging toward the house, both man and beast fell into formation alongside of him. "Where was she when you came out?" Dean questioned Sam as they reached the back patio.

"I left her resting on the couch. But she's in the house, she's got to be safe."

Dean shot his brother a look of skepticism and Sam increased his pace. It was obvious whatever they were dealing with defied all of their preconception. Both brothers and Jack hit the patio running. It took only seconds for them to enter the house and make their way to the living room.

Despite the noise their arrival made, Sara slept on, her head resting on a pillow, a blanket pulled up around her shoulders. Though her position should have looked serene, the frown that marred her face made it clear she was in the grip of a nightmare.

Sam let loose the breath he was holding and nudged his brother. "I'm gonna see what I can figure out."

Dean nodded and eased toward the couch. Gently he lifted Sara into his arms, and sat down in her place, drawing her against his chest. "We need to keep an eye on her at all times, Sam. No more leaving her alone, not even in here."

Sam nodded his agreement and left the room, Jack trotting after him.

888

Sam pushed back from the desk with a sigh. Three hours and he was no closer to figuring out what had killed the two men. There simply wasn't enough information to be found. The two victims seemed to have only one common thread and that was Sara, beyond that Sam could find nothing that linked the men.

Near desperate to hear from Bobby, he allowed his hand to hover over his cell phone. He hesitated for one reason and one reason only. He'd already called the older hunter four times over the last three hours and to say Bobby was getting a bit irate was an understatement. In fact, he'd warned Sam not to call back unless someone lost a limb and he made it clear that it had better be an important one, fingers and toes wouldn't cut it.

Sam's hand slipped off the phone as he conceded Bobby was probably right. His constant phone calls weren't helping in any way. The problem was Sam felt as if nothing he was doing was helping. At the moment, his only clue was the mark left on the victims and Sara's lethargy. To make matters more complicated the lethargy hadn't appeared evident in Greg, leaving Sam to believe that whatever had killed the man hadn't been feeding for long, unlike the situation with Sara. That left the younger hunter to wonder why. Why hadn't the killer fed on Sara outright, leaving her dead? Why draw the game out?

Every conclusion Sam came up with left him feeling even worse. The only thing that made sense was to suppose that something had bigger plans for the widow. What those plans might be eluded Sam, but he had no doubt it couldn't be for anything good.

Sam wandered out of the room and down the hallway. The absolute stillness of the house seemed so uncharacteristic that Sam felt the need for companionship. As he wandered down the long hall, he couldn't help but notice just how big the place was. Normally, the large house was filled to capacity. The sheer number of people living in it caused it to feel much more cozy than it was.

That suited Sam just fine. He'd grown up in a countless array of hotel rooms, trailer parks, and run down rentals usually consisting of no more than two rooms. The never ending life of a hunter had led him to believe that the occasional sound of a stranger's anger, or the hum of an out of date air conditioner were the sounds of home. Even the dorm room he'd occupied upon his arrival at Stanford had been just another taste of motel living. His first taste of normal was living with Jessica.

Living with Jess had dramatically changed his perspective. There he'd come to realize that a home, a real home had a permanence and a personality that reflected it's owners, not some generic space that never took on the individuality of it's occupiers. The apartment he'd shared with Jessica hadn't been large by any means. However, it had been filled with things that had reflected their lives together, they had left their imprint there.

Though, it had taken him a lot of years to notice, the Impala held just such a feel. From his brother's box of tapes to the sunglasses that rested on the dash, the car had taken on Dean's personality in every way. When Sam had re-joined the hunt, he had at first felt slightly out of place in what was clearly his brother's space. Then, he'd begun to leave his own mark on the vehicle. From the cigarette lighter that was replaced with a power cord to the extra sweatshirt he always left on the back seat, Sam had slowly but surely made a place for himself in car.

Here at Sara's you never seemed to notice just how large the house really was. The Power's home was made of sound and stuff, not space. Laughter, music, tears, yells of anger, and of camaraderie made up the framework. The well-loved furniture and personal touches of each member of the family, including extended family, made up the heart.

The house seemed almost lost without the steady thrum of sneakers pounding up and down the stairs, or Jess' trailing laughter as she worked to keep up with the boys. The music that normally accompanied Sara no matter her chore was now silent and even the background noises of running appliances or the occasional thud of Jack's footsteps were missing. The still of the house seemed oppressive causing the house to feel more like a museum than a home.

Feeling like the last man on earth, Sam headed for the living room in search of company. His brother had remained at Sara's side, coming back to check on Sam's progress, or lack thereof, every now and again. It had been nearly an hour since his last update, so Sam figured he'd use that as an excuse to seek them out.

He came to a halt just inside the living room. There on the couch lay his brother, with Sara in his arms. The couple was sound asleep. They lay on their sides, with Dean's hand lying possessively on the widow's hip and his other arm tucked under her head providing her with a pillow of sorts. Though he knew it was simply a lull in the battle that the couple were waging, the sight of them lying together was a sort of balm to his soul. He'd never fully allowed himself to give up the notion of Dean and Sara finding happiness together.

"Cop a squat, sasquatch."

Sam should have known better that Dean was asleep. No one was better than his brother at playing watchdog. Apparently, the older man had meant it when he'd said he was going to be keeping an eye on Sara.

"Thought you were resting," Sam said as he dropped into the old over-stuffed recliner that sat across from the couch.

Dean grimaced and spoke softly, "I'll sleep when she's safe."

Sam nodded, the sentiment pretty much summing up how he felt. "She's pretty out of it, huh?"

Dean let his eyes slip shut and answered, "Well, despite what a jerk I was earlier, she's tired enough to lay down with me. Does that answer your question?"

"Well, you admitted you were an ass, I'm a forgiving girl," Sara rasped as she sat up.

Dean lifted an eyebrow and sat upright also, both moving to opposite ends of the couch now that the truce seemed over. "I said, jerk, not an ass. And I'll have you know I wasn't the only one."

Sara's full-fledge smile helped to light up the room as she dropped a wink at Sam. "Now, now, Sam's a good kid. He's done nothing wrong."

Unable to hold onto his fierce frown any longer, Dean grinned and snarked, "Yeah cause I was talking about Sam."

Sam grinned thankful for the attempt at humor. Every one of them was drawn tight like a bow waiting for whatever would befall them next. Waiting had never been a strong suite of the Winchesters. Both men preferred action to inactivity especially when someone they cared about was on the line.

With a low groan, Sara drew her legs up onto the couch and curled up. "So, Sam, you figure out what's wrong with me yet?"

Sam avoided his brother's direct gaze and shrugged. "Not yet, but, we've got Bobby on the trail."

Sara curled in on herself even more, her composure slipping only slightly. "Well, then, all will be well."

A feeling of failure swept through Sam. Unwilling to let her down, Sam's resolve firmed. 'We're going to find this thing, Sara, trust me." Sam's gaze locked onto his brother's urging the older man to believe in him. Dean's faint nod went a long way toward easing the tension that gripped Sam.

"I know you will,"

Sam smiled at Sara's confidence and settled back into his seat. "If we're going to find this thing we need to determine what it is, how it came to find you, and what it wants."

"What'd'ya mean what's it want. I mean it's obvious right it wants to hurt her."

Sam could easily read his brother's eyes, though Dean said hurt, he meant kill. Sam acknowledged his brother's question, "I'm not so sure. I mean according to what Sara said she's been feeling this way for over two months now, sometimes better and sometimes worse, but never really good."

"So you think this thing's been feeding off of me for that long," Sara asked, her expression making it clear the thought made her nauseas.

"Now, onto how it found you. I'm confident it's not getting to you inside the house, Sara. The protections we've put in place are still holding. So..."

Sara frowned and shrugged. "I mean you guys know the routine. I haven't gone anywhere, I've just been...living."

Dean nodded and eased forward. Sam could tell that his brother was slipping into interrogation mode. It was obvious the older man was no longer seeing Sara, instead, he was sifting for facts.

"So, school, shopping, your parents?"

Sara nodded and answered, "Yeah, um..Judy's for dinner every now and again. It was a pretty cold winter so we really didn't do much. Just kinda stayed home and waited for spring."

Sam watched his brother begin to break apart Sara's words. It was obvious he was no longer paying attention, instead, he was combing over the facts again and again, hoping to shake something loose.

"Have you pissed anyone off, a neighbor, some gypsy lady, perhaps, taken a bite of poison fruit?"

Despite the humor in Dean's words, Sam had no doubt his brother was serious. "You thinking a witch, Dean?"

"Just running through the choices. I mean what if it's a curse and the bruise is a token of the hoodoo and not an actual symptom?"

"Huh," Sam hadn't thought of that, in fact, he'd primarily studied creatures looking for something that would cause that mark. It had never occurred to him that it might be something else. "Wait a minute." At a dash, Sam darted from the living room intent on grabbing his laptop. Dean's theory that it might be a curse was something that he could at least verify. The feeling of being useful was a welcome one indeed.

888

"I've found nothing to indicate it's a witch," Sam snapped as he shut the laptop with more force than necessary.

Sara lifted her head from the seat cushion and gazed blearily at the younger hunter. "Nothing?"

Sam's refusal to meet Sara's direct gaze indicated just how much he'd been hoping they could figure out what was up. "No signs of a coven, no unexplainable fortunes or losses, not even a good old-fashion love triangle. Nothing that would indicate there's a witch operating nearby."

Dean studied Sam for a moment before at last breaking into a grin. "You guys hungry? 'Cause I'm starved."

If Sam was at all surprised by his brother's suggestion then Sara missed it. The Winchesters had a secret language all their own. One that was made up of facial expressions, body language and the occasional eye roll or grunt thrown in for good measure.

While Sara knew enough about the Winchesters to understand she really didn't understand, she could tell that the slump of Sam's shoulders and the soulful cast to his eyes was his way of offering up an apology to his big brother. Dean on the other hand, stood serene, the smallest lift at the corner of his mouth. Not a smirk so much as a shrug, clearly it was a 'hey I know you're doing your best' smile.

Moment over, Dean turned to face Sara and held out a hand to her. "Let's see what's in the kitchen."

Sara stared up at the hand, an amused smile on her face. Any other woman might be offended by his cavalier offer but she knew better. Dean wasn't downplaying the danger she was in, in fact, he was taking it way to seriously if his hand out was any indication. The man had spent the last week avoiding any type of touch. Yet, since he'd returned to the house he hadn't moved more than two feet from her side. At the moment, that was fine with Sara, though she struggled to remind herself it was more concern for her safety than any real affection.

Sara took the proffered hand and allowed him to help her up. Once on her feet, she felt a wave of dizziness try to knock her off her feet. Dean's grip on her elbow helped to anchor her. At last, she nodded and shifted slightly putting a bit of distance between them. Again, she reminded herself that his affection wasn't to be taken seriously.

"You coming, Sam?" Dean asked not a trace of worry in his tone.

Sam shook his head, his eyes straying toward the abandoned laptop. "Naw, I'm gonna check some stuff out."

Sara was completely unsurprised by the men's behavior. True to form, Dean chose action over inactivity. He was a man of motion, one given to thinking on the go. Despite the front he presented to the world, he was far from incapable when it came to research. He simply didn't thrive when forced to sit in front of a computer or troll through archaic books in a library. Dean processed information best when on the move, allowing his subconscious to sift through facts, picking out the important ones and discarding the rest.

Sam on the other hand worried a problem, unable to concentrate on anything else. Even now, he was back in front of the laptop, scanning sites he'd already gone over, biting his fingernails to the quick and oblivious to the world around him. Sara smiled fondly at both Winchesters and headed for the kitchen.

As she moved, she felt the heavy weight of Dean's hand move to the small of her back. She felt a pang at the proprietary gesture. How many hours had she spent remembering just that touch? The way his hand slipped to her lower back, his fingers spread out to encompass the most area. The heat of his hand searing through her clothing, brought a blush to her pale skin. Firmly, but gently, he guided her to the kitchen, not bothering to stop until she was seated in one of the chairs.

"Stay," he ordered.

Sara stayed, to be honest, there really wasn't much else she could do, the short walk from the living room had left her feeling drained.

Dean's hand ghosted up to press against her forehead, he frowned. "You feel warm."

Uncomfortable with the fact that Dean's touch had brought the flush to her skin, Sara shrugged off his hand. "I'm fine really. Now what are you planning on making me?"

Dean grinned and whipped the tea towel off the fridge handle. Tossing it over his shoulder, he sent Sara one of his best smiles, all teeth and attitude. "You don't worry your pretty little head over it, just sit back and--"

Dean's words were cut off by the sound of the house phone ringing. For a moment, both Sara and Dean were frozen in some kind of weird tableau each staring at the phone that hung on the wall. Sara could clearly make out Bobby's name flashing on the caller ID, she just seemed unable to force her limbs into motion. The only reason Bobby would be call the house phone was if the information he had was urgent.

Sam's entrance into the kitchen was just enough to break Sara out of her stupor. The younger hunter lunged for the phone, only to be shouldered aside by Dean.

Face taut with worry, Dean grabbed the phone and barked into it, "Bobby?"

A minute later, all color drained from Dean's face. He turned, avoiding Sara's gaze, and stared hard at his brother. Placing a hand over the mouthpiece, Dean said, "He thinks it's an Anchanchu."


	13. Chapter 13

"As in a Vampire Fairy

"As in a Vampire Fairy?" Sam questioned, all color draining from his face.

Dean replaced the handset on the receiver and turned to face his brother. Sara could see by the look in his eyes that whatever this fairy was, it wasn't good news. Suddenly, needing to break the tension that filled the silence, Sara asked, "You're kidding me right, a vampire fairy?" Careful to keep all worry from her tone, she continued, "Is that like Tinkerbelle with fangs?"

Watching Dean's expression harden was enough to seriously scare Sara. The elder Winchester was normally one to trade quip for quip, if he had no smartass reply to her joke then the news was even worse than she'd thought. She must have conveyed her fear to Dean because he held out a hand to her, beckoning her closer.

Sara hesitated, she'd spent so much time convincing herself that she didn't need to lean on his strength that she'd almost begun to believe it, almost. At last, she found she couldn't deny him or herself the contact. As her hand closed around his she reveled in the feel. His skin was warm and work rough, his large hand wrapped around her slim fingers, locking their palms tightly in place. The touch was like a balm to Sara's soul. No longer did she feel alone, no longer did the weight of the world rest on her slim shoulders. With Dean by her side she had no doubt that everything would be fine. Content at last, for the first time in what seemed like forever, Sara glanced up into his eyes and smiled, uncaring if her heart was clearly visible.

Dean's shuttered gaze and frozen expression said louder than words that she'd misjudged his intentions. Sara dropped his hand as if stung and fled from the room.

888

"Crap, Dean, what the hell?" Sam snapped before following the older woman out the door.

Dean ignored his brother's leaving and leaned over the table. Placing both hands flat on the surface, he closed his eyes and prayed for strength. He needed it. More than Sam would ever guess.

Nothing had changed, Sara was still better off without him around and eventually she would come to realize that. When this was all over and done with he would be leaving with Sam. Trouble came to everyone that Dean had ever cared about. He couldn't afford for Sara to get caught in that same trap. Above all, including his own wants and dreams, he needed to keep her safe.

Earlier his fear for Sara had overcome his good sense, it was a mistake he wouldn't repeat. Though, he had intended to offer her reassurance, to ease her way, he wouldn't allow himself to take comfort from her. With Sara that was nearly impossible, she had an innate gift for offering comfort to everyone she met.

When he'd offered her his hand, he'd done so only as a gesture of concern. He had expected Sara to have her emotions firmly in check, instead, she'd looked at him as if he held the world in his hands. So, he'd done as he'd always done, he shut down, and now he'd felt as if he'd broken something between them that could never be repaired.

A burst of anger, at once again having to give up what he wanted, had Dean lashing out, his heavy boot catching one of the kitchen chairs. It toppled over with a clatter, drawing him back to reality. Sara didn't have time for him to wallow in pity. He had a job to do, probably one of the most important jobs he would ever have to face, and he intended to do it right.

888

The dance that Sara and Dean had been engaged in for the past two years had at times been both beautiful and complicated. As partners, they had woven in and out, seamlessly, each one complimenting the other at every turn. At least that's the way Sam had always seen them, until Gordon. It had been the intrusion of the killer that had thrown off their pairing, causing their movements to become clunky and at odds with one another.

The invasion of the Winchester's hunting life, into Sara's normal world, had crippled Dean, leaving the older man to flounder with fear. Steps now unsure, he had fumbled in the dance sending a ripple effect across the relationship. In return, Sara's own steps became halting, her own issues rising up to strip her of her confidence.

Now as they circled one another, they at times, seemed to almost find their old rhythm until the slightest wrong step threw them out of sync once more.

This time the fault had been all Dean. Sam had actually watched his brother shut down his feelings at the conclusion of Bobby's phone call. His older brother's ability to erect a wall, to hold back his emotions, was Dean's only true self-defense mechanism. With every other area of his life, Dean was selfless to a fault. His heart was the only real part of him that his brother ever tried to guard.

Sometimes, when caught in the throes of missing Jessica so badly his entire body ached, Sam envied his brother's ability. To just shut down, to ignore the pain of being left behind, that was something Sam had never been good at. He'd always been at the mercy of his emotions, nearly every choice he'd made in his life, had been out of one emotion or another. Anger, guilt, love, all had driven him in one form or another all his life.

Not Dean, his brother had learned early in life how to shut down his anger, to bury his guilt and to hold back his love, at least until he'd met Sara. The lovely widow had pricked his anger, until it came to the surface, then instead of retreating from it she'd embraced it firing back with her own. She'd shown him how to push away his guilt. Then she'd shown him that love had no boundaries, no status quo.

Now everything was wrong, every movement left one or both of them broken and bruised. For Sam, what hurt the worst was that he had no idea how or even if he should try to repair what was clearly broken. Sam, more than anyone, knew what it was to love someone and to lose them because of what you were.

"Sara?"

"Here, Sam," Sara replied, her voice surprisingly calm.

He pushed open the bedroom door and gingerly entered the room. Sara stood by the window, gazing out at the deepening twilight. Suddenly unsure of how to help, Sam began to fidget, glancing around Sara's room.

"Just spit it out, Sam."

The younger man looked up to meet Sara's gaze, he smiled slightly and asked, "Am I that transparent?"

Sara turned her head and gave him a smile. Despite her wasted countenance, it lit up the space.

"Maybe he's right," Sam blurted unsure of what made him admit his doubts. Maybe it was Sara's smile, he could still remember so clearly the last smile Jess had ever bestowed on him.

Sara snorted and returned her gaze out the window. "Right about what? Getting me killed? Please that's a load of crap."

"You wouldn't be the first woman that died for loving a Winchester," Sam ground out, suddenly furious with her stubborn refusal to see that they carried death with them no matter where they went.

"Sam, did it ever occur to you that I'm living on borrowed time?" Sara asked, her face still turned toward the window. "That maybe the reason bad things keep happening to me is not because you or Dean are bad luck, but simply because I've used up my nine lives. I should have died the night Jason died. Hell, we all should have. It was only by Bobby's intervention that we didn't."

"Since, Bobby, saved me, saved my family I have found myself in trouble time and again, and each time it's only by your involvement that I remain alive." Sara shrugged wearily. "The way I figure it, you two walk out on me and fate's bound to collect what I owe"

In two strides, Sam crossed the room to Sara's side, grabbing her arms he spun her around and shook her. "Don't say that, don't ever say that. Whether he's here with you or not, if something happens to you I'll lose him."

Sara stared up at him, her normally large eyes appearing even wider as she replied, "It's not like I have a choice, Sam. I didn't ask for any of this. You of all people should understand that."

He let go of Sara and stepped back, suddenly afraid that the widow had a point. "We almost didn't come here," Sam mumbled. All he could think of at that moment, was the fact that they'd come so close to leaving town without ever realizing just how much trouble Sara was in. If they had...well it didn't bear thinking.

"But you did, don't you see. If not for you I'd be dead and most likely the kids with me."

"I slashed the Impala's tires," Sam blurted, suddenly overcome with a need to confess.

Sara's jaw dropped and she blurted, "He'll kill you."

Sam shrugged a slightly guilty grin on his face. "Dean, had a nightmare. He felt you were in some kind of trouble but I couldn't find anything wrong." Sam grimaced, now that he knew what they were up against, it was really no surprise that he hadn't been able to find a trail. "He said we should go, that we were putting you in danger."

"So, you slashed the tires to stay here? So you'd have more time for research?" Sara questioned.

Sam blushed and looked down at his feet. "Actually, I kinda figured once you two were in the same room together..." Sam's voice trailed off.

Sara snorted and snapped, "Well, that sure as shit backfired, huh."

He looked up and gave a wry laugh. "Yeah, two more stubborn people I've yet to meet."

A grunt of surprise escaped Sam as Sara threw herself against him and wrapped her arms tight around his waist. Returning the embrace, he rested his chin on her head and whispered, "He really is going to kill me isn't he?"

Sara's nodding head bumped Sam on the chin. "Oh, hell, yeah. I wouldn't wanna be in your shoes."

Sam rolled his eyes and muttered, "Yeah, well I'm not the only one keeping secrets now am I?"

Sara released her hold slightly and leaned back to meet his gaze. "Sam," she threatened.

"I'm just saying that maybe he'd be a lot more prone to believe that you were capable of taking care of yourself, if he realized that you were the one that shot Gordon."

Before the older woman could reply, Sam drew Sara close and hugged her tight. "He loves you, remember that," Sam whispered with absolute confidence.

888

"This is bad, Dean," Sam whispered as he heard his brother enter the bedroom.

"I know," Dean replied as he crossed the room to where Sara slept, curled up on her side, in the middle of her bed.

"She's getting worse, and as an added bonus the bruise is back."

Dean walked past the bed and moved to the window. Parting the blinds, he glanced out into the dark night. He'd just spent the last hour walking the perimeter of the yard. The hunter really hadn't expected to find anything, he'd just needed to blow off some steam and to think about their options. He always thought better on his feet and tonight was no exception. Bobby had pulled no punches in laying down just what was after Sara and what the brothers needed to do to save her.

For just a moment, while Bobby imparted the seriousness of the situation, Dean had found himself longing for the older hunter to suddenly appear at his side, or even better his father. Despite Bobby's considerable efforts to get back to Pennsylvania, Dean knew he couldn't afford to wait for him. As for his father, well wishing sure as hell wouldn't make that one come true. So, Dean, had pushed aside his childish wants and concentrated on doing his dead-level best to keep Sara alive.

"How much do you know about the Anchanchu?" Dean questioned Sam, wondering if his brother realized just how bad it actually was.

Sam, who sat in a chair by Sara's side, ran a hand through his shaggy hair and sighed. "Not much and what I do know is pretty vague. I know it's Peruvian, a cross between a fairy and a vampire. I know that traditionally they like to hang near rivers and wooded areas, which leads me to believe that Sara stumbled over this thing in the forest. They suck the blood of their victims, which ties in with Brian and Greg. But, I also seem to recall hearing something about them bringing about sickness also." Sam dropped his head and studied the floor for a moment. At last, he looked up and shrugged. "Wasn't there something about whirlwinds?"

Dean nodded, impressed with Sam's ability to recall nearly every baddie he'd ever heard referenced to. "You've got the basics, but according to Bobby, it's a bit more complicated than that."

"Has he dealt with one before?"

"Yeah," Dean confirmed, careful to keep his expression blank. He didn't plan on telling Sam that the last time Bobby had come across one of these fairies the victim had died.

"The Anchanchu was a fairy that became inhabited by the same demon that created vampires, it kept a lot of its magic, but, as an added bonus it now also has vampire-like tendencies. It can materialize and disappear at will, the only tell-tale sign is a gust of wind."

Sam nodded, his attention centered on Dean. It was obvious that the younger man was filing away information and intended to have all his facts straight.

"The streams and rivers thing is right, but for the woods, it's gotta be cedar tress. I'm thinking that if we follow the path Sara jogs every morning, we'll find it's been living near the stream."

"Great, what else did Bobby know?"

"The blood sucking thing is pretty straight forward. Though, the way it goes about it is a bit different. When it's looking to feed the fairy has a probe that extends from inside its mouth, like a sort of straw." Dean knew the look of horror he could see on Sam's face was a reflection of his own disgust. The thought of this thing sucking on Sara was enough to make him feel like puking.

"Ugh," Sam said swallowing hard.

"Yeah, nice huh? Like all fairies, it's got the ability to lure people to its side using it's sweet voice, and to erase memories. Basically people never realize that they've just been snacked on."

"It didn't move on this time," Sam pointed out in irritation.

"Nope, this time the bastard stayed put. From what Bobby said, it's not unheard of. The thing's got some sorta twisted agenda. Not part of the fairy world, and not a true vampire, it's a bastard of both cultures, and it's apparently fickle as hell."

The corner of Sam's mouth tilted just slightly at his brother's choice of word. "Fickle, huh?"

Dean shrugged and said, "Bobby's word. Anyway, so this things decided to settle down for a while. I guess they get bored with the whole waiting by a stream for some hiker to stop by for dinner. When this happens they..." Dean hesitated, hardly able to continue, "they possess a body."

Sam's eyes drifted toward Sara who lay still on the bed, the only sign of life the shallow rise and fall of her chest. "It's possessing her?"

Dean leaned against the wall, suddenly feeling as if he could use the support, and cleared his throat. "Not yet, it's a long process that involves draining the body to nearly the point of death. Near as I can guess, Sara's not there just yet. It does however, have a link to her already and it's pretty much got free reign to use her body as it sees fit."

"Like what, a puppet master? It can make her walk, talk, and act normal?"

"No, it hasn't taken possession so it can't control her emotions. She's still ours. What it can do is call her to its side for feedings."

"Shit," Sam breathed. "That's how it's been getting to her. It's not getting in the house, it's pulling her out."

"Yup. Nice, huh. This shitting thing's been calling to her, feeding on her and then clearing her memory so she has no recall of it."

"So this has been going on for months?"

"Yeah, it has to keep her alive to take over the body. So, basically it destroys her soul leaving just an empty shell."

Sam gained his feet and turned to face Dean. "That means we still have time, right. It hasn't been able to displace her soul. All we need to do is kill it and Sara's safe?"

Dean had known this was coming and yet it still felt like a blow to the chest. "It's too late to just kill it off. Its hold on Sara's too great already, if we're not careful..." Dean's voice trailed off. He just didn't have the strength to admit that Sara could very well die.

"She could die," Sam's said, his tone full of pain.

Dean moved toward Sara and reached out to brush his fingers against her cheek. She lay on her side, one hand gripping the bedspread as if to anchor herself to the bed, the other was tucked up under her pillow. Too thin, too tired, too pale, it seemed as if Sara was already gone, leaving behind only a broken shell.

"Not today she won't," Dean reassured his brother. "There's a list of supplies on the kitchen table. Most of it's fairly straight forward, but," Dean sighed, "there's a snag. We're gonna need both the berries and the bark of a Hawthorn tree."

"Shit," Sam breathed. "That stuff's nearly impossible to find."

"I know, but we need it for the spell that'll break the Anchanchu's hold on Sara. Otherwise, when we kill it, it'll take her with it."

Sam nodded his understanding and headed for the bedroom door. "Makes sense, Hawthorn's got major regenerative powers. I'll do what I can and be back here as soon as possible."

"We'll be waiting."

888

Dean glanced down at his watch once more and grimaced. Only seven minutes had passed since his last check making it only an hour total that Sam had been gone. He knew his brother was going to need longer than that to figure out the Hawthorn angle, after all it wasn't as if there was a tree in the back yard that they could go harvest some berries from. Nothing was ever easy, of course it couldn't be the sap of a maple tree that would save Sara, I mean he couldn't throw a stone in the local woods without hitting one of those. No, it had to be a traditional English tree.

Unable to sit any longer, Dean began to pace. For the last hour, he'd been going over the spells that he would need to use, memorizing the words and familiarizing himself with the correct procedures. The first spell that Bobby had given him was a binding spell. This would hold the Anchanchu in place and basically render it powerless, for a while at least. The second spell would break the hold the fairy had over Sara and would give her the strength to survive. At least that was the idea, honestly, Dean still had his doubts.

The final step would be to destroy the Anchanchu out right. Bobby figured that be-heading would work best. After all, few things could survive without a head. The hardest part of the plan would be to capture the fairy long enough to perform the binding spell. Dean had little faith that the creature, which as far as he knew could have looked like anything, would simply stand still and allow itself to be captured. Fairies were, as a rule, never cooperative, especially, not blood thirsty, body seeking fairies.

Over all, this wasn't going to be one of the easiest hunts. Again, Dean wished for Bobby, another pair of hands would make all the difference. As it was, they were somehow going to have to restrain Sara so she was incapable of heeding the fairy's song. Otherwise they risked her being used as a pawn by the creature.

It wasn't until he was half-way through memorizing the binding spell that Dean noticed the wind had picked up. At first the low sound of the air rolling through the clearing that the house sat in was just background noise, barely noticeable at all. At least until Jack began to howl. The dog's plaintive cry sent shivers down Dean's back.

He'd banished the dog from the bedroom a little after Sam had left. The Saint Bernard seemed to sense that something was wrong with Sara and in response he'd done his very best to act like a barnacle. Every time Dean moved the dog was right there, tripping him up, and when Dean's penchant for pacing had finally won out, Jack had only grown more and more agitated. At his wit's end, he had at last kicked the animal out, telling himself that it was for his own good.

Concerned now that their was nothing simple about the wind that threatening to shake the shingles loose, Dean decided he needed to do a quick check over the house. "Sara," he called as he rested his palm against her forehead.

It took two more calls, before Sara's eyes finally flickered. Calling to her for a third time, Dean was heartened to see her familiar green eyes staring back at him. For just one brief moment, he thought he saw a flare of life before she managed to shut down her emotions. It was enough, for now to know that she wasn't ready to give in yet.

"Sara, you need to listen to me. Do you remember the fairy?"

The widow gave an exaggerated blink and then began to squint, her eyes nearly closing as she tried to focus. Dean quickly reached out and snagged her glasses off the nightstand. He was glad to see her eyes widen as he slipped them on. Sara's eyesight was bad to say the least and he knew she always felt vulnerable without the aid of either glasses or contacts.

"Fanged fairy?" she croaked.

Dean knew his smile was a bit strained but he hoped it would help to reassure the older woman anyway. "Yeah, the fanged fairy. Seems he's causing a ruckus. I need to give the house a once over, make sure everything's still holding."

"Sam," she said her eyes already drifting closed.

"Sam's gone to get supplies, he's gonna get back soon and then we'll get you feeling better."

Sara's weak nod was her only response. Dean didn't bother to wait for anything more. Jack was now barking the house down and the wind was howling. With a last touch to her cheek, he whispered, "Stay put, kiddo. I'll be right back."

Dean was out of the room and down the stairs in moments, at a run he headed for the back of the house, where Jack was raising hell. The dog stood near the French doors that led to the patio, his attention firmly fixed on the dark yard. Strain his eyes as he might, Dean was unable to make out anything. "Jack, quiet." His head felt as if it were about to explode from the ruckus the dog was creating. For once, Jack completely ignored him. In fact, if Dean were honest with himself he'd have to say that the brown and white dog's cries grew even louder.

Content for the moment that the fairy was remaining well back from the protection that the house and yard offered, Dean began to check over the entire ground floor. As he moved through the kitchen, checking the salt lines, the windows began to rattle with the gale force winds.

A quick check of the office and Dean was heading back down the hall toward the kitchen. It was then the power gave out plunging him into nearly complete darkness. What little moonlight there was, didn't reach the hallway where Dean stood. It didn't stop him from continuing toward the foyer. He knew the house like the back of his hand, with or without the lights he could easily find his way. He'd just entered the foyer when he saw Sara descending the steps.

Dressed simply in a pair of track pants, her white tee-shirt reflected the little bit of moonlight that filtered through the window in the front door, her feet were bare and her hair was pulled back into a simple pony-tail. Dean paused for just a moment, thrown off by the sight of her.

Later, he'd find himself thankful that the sight of Sara did make him hesitate. Otherwise, he would have been much closer to the windows that lined the living room wall when they, and every other piece of glass in the house, exploded inward in one huge mass of flying shrapnel and shrieking noise. As it was, the blast still managed to knock him off his feet, throwing him the length of the foyer and into the wall. Dean's head slammed into the dry wall, leaving him slumped and unconscious on the floor.


	14. Chapter 14

Sam maneuvered his brother's big black car down Sara's driveway barely even noticing the wind that buffered the Impala

Sam maneuvered his brother's big black car down Sara's driveway barely even noticing the wind that buffered the Impala. His mind was fully centered on whether the ingredients he'd gathered, to perform the two spells, would work. He was worried that the hawthorn he'd had to make do with wouldn't be strong enough to break the hold on Sara.

As he reached the garage, the glow from the headlights reflected over the concrete floor. Something sparkled like diamonds, unsure of what it was, Sam climbed out of the idling car and moved into the garage. Glass crunched under his boots as he examined the floor. It was obvious, as he watched the wind blowing through the now vacant holes that had once held window glass, something was terribly wrong.

It took only moments to shut down the car, grab the supplies he'd bought and a shotgun. Tamping down the instinct that urged him to run full tilt into the house in search of his brother and Sara, Sam entered carefully. As he feared, the devastation continued through the dining room, where nothing remained of the french doors except the ragged framework, and through the kitchen where glass littered the floor.

Afraid to call out, Sam kept his eyes peeled as he placed the bag he carried on the table. The urge to find his brother was now a driving force too great to be ignored. If something was still in the house, there was little that Sam could do about it. The shadows, created by the pale moonlit that streamed through the shattered windows, were too deep for Sam to penetrate. For all he could tell, whatever had done the damage could be staring at him right now.

Throwing caution to the wind, he left the kitchen in a hurry heading for the stairs. He was halfway across the foyer when his foot snagged on something and down he went, his hands skittering across the broken glass that littered nearly every inch of the house. Hands stinging in pain, Sam winced and used his elbows to push up from his prone position. As he did he looked back at what had tripped him up. There, jutting out of the darkness, was the tip of a boot.

Sam focused on the shadow, just barely able to make out the shape of his brother slumped against the wall. A sliver of fear ran down his spine and he scrambled to Dean's side.

"Ah, shit, Dean," Sam whispered as he knelt next to him, uncaring about the glass that poked and pierced his knees.

Carefully, he ran a hand around the back of Dean's head, where it rested against the wall, and found a large bump already forming. His brother had hit the wall, and hit it hard.

"Dean!" Sam demanded, putting more force in his voice. He no longer cared if the sound carried, he was fairly certain that whatever had blown apart the house had done so from the outside. Not to mention that the lack of windows wouldn't stop the proactive measures that existed around each doorway and opening. Even with all the windows and doors wide open, the house was still a fortress.

The younger Winchester carefully cupped his brother's bearded chin and shook him gently. He needed Dean awake and he needed it now. "Dean, come on, you gotta wake up."

Dean responded to the movement, with a slight jerk he pulled his chin from Sam's grasp and moaned softly. Sam sat back a bit and watched as his brother fought his way to the surface. As a pair of bright green eyes blinked up at him, he urged Dean, "Hey, hey, man, come on, focus."

"Sam, you alright?"

Sam snorted in relief at his brother's question. Typical Dean, he had to make sure Sam was okay before he was fully conscious himself.

"Yeah, dude, I'm fine. I was a bit late to the party."

Dean nodded slightly, the movement eliciting a groan. "What happened?"

Without answering, Sam tucked his hand under Dean's arm and helped to haul his brother to his feet. Sam decided on the kitchen as a base of operations. Though damaged, it wasn't as bad as the other rooms simply because there was only one window above the sink. Taking a moment to brush a little glass off one of the chairs, Sam then eased his brother down onto the seat. With one hand he kept Dean leaning slightly forward to ensure his brother didn't press his back against the chair.

To say his brother had been lucky was an understatement in Sam's opinion. Dean's jean jacket had been shredded by the blast but had prevented all but the very largest shards of shrapnel from penetrating the skin beneath. Only two of the larger pieces had managed to pierce Dean's back.

"I'm gonna grab the kit, don't lean back," Sam said as he moved his hand from Dean's shoulder. As soon as the pressure eased off, Dean struggled upright ignoring Sam's words. "Dean!" Sam barked catching his brother's attention.

Halted by the order he heard in Sam's voice, Dean stopped his movement and focused blearily on Sam, "'m fine."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's words and turned to the kitchen sink. Taking a knee he pulled open the cabinet and retrieved the kit that Sara kept there.

"It took her, Sam," Dean growled his voice already sounding stronger.

Cutting away Dean's jacket and shirt allowed Sam to see the sliver of glass, slick with blood that protruded from his brother's shoulder. "It knows we're onto it, its stepping up it's game."

"Argh," Dean cried out as Sam got a firm grip on the glass wedged in his back.

"Sorry," Sam muttered.

"Yeah, and the blast of wind it sent through this place was nothing more than a distraction."

Sam stopped irrigating the wound the sliver had left and snorted at his brother's words. "Are you kidding me, this was no distraction. This thing meant to stop you from following."

"Yeah, well, it didn't work. Soon as you get me patched up I'm heading after it."

"We're," Sam snapped, as he bandaged the cut.

With a wince, Dean asked, "We're what?"

Thankfully, the second piece of glass, had mainly glanced off his brother's back. Only the tip had actually penetrated. It did however leave a three inch gash which ended with the corner of the glass sticking out of Dean's lower back. Unable to take the time to stitch the deeper cut, Sam cleaned the wound and then closed it with butterfly bandages. "We're going after Sara, you sure as hell aren't leaving me here."

As soon as Sam had finished Dean stood, his now bare torso covered in scratches. On wobbly feet, he moved toward the window. He stood, his hands clenched the edge of the sink, his gaze focused on the forest beyond the open window. "Yes, I am."

Sam's eyes were drawn to the two bandages that stood out starkly against the lightly tanned skin of his brother's back. Blood from the deeper wounds, plus the more superficial scratches had leaked down from Dean's back, staining the waistline of his jeans. Though he had been lucky, Dean was still in no condition to go running off on his own, especially not smelling like blood. It was Sara that the fairy wanted to keep, there was nothing to stop it from snacking on Dean.

"Listen to me, you are not going out there alone. You're covered in blood, and already weak from that head wound. There's no way you're keeping me from coming."

Dean turned from the sink and faced Sam once more. It didn't take a genius to see the way Dean leaned against the countertop. Sam had a feeling it was keeping his brother on his feet. Well, the countertop and his own stubborn pride, Sam amended.

"You need to prepare the-" Dean began only to be cut off by Sam.

"That's bullshit. We don't have time to argue. We're both going out there, then we'll both bring her back and perform the ritual. Plus, don't forget we have to bind this thing also, and the only way to do that is face to face."

Sam could see the moment his brother yielded. It was clear in the way his full lips tightened and his gaze turned hard. Sam pressed his point home. "We are doing this together."

"Fine, you gather the supplies for the binding spell and I'm gonna grab a shirt, we need to move, it's already been nearly an hour since Sara left."

Sam nodded and turned toward the bag he'd packed earlier. As he began double checking the supplies they'd need he heard his brother leave the room, and then return a couple minutes later. Without stopping his inspection he questioned Dean, "Where's the dog?"

"You haven't seen him?" Dean asked his voice muffled by the shirt he was easing over his head.

His brother's reply had Sam swinging around to face the older hunter. "You mean he's not locked up? I figured he was in Sara's room." Without waiting for Dean's reply, Sam ran from the room, the sound of glass crunching under his feet and started up the stairs, taking them two at a time. As he neared Sara's bedroom he heard the sound of his brother moving up the stairs behind him.

The closed door to Sara's room offered no resistance as Sam opened it. A cursory glance showed the dog was no where in sight. As Dean entered the room, Sam turned toward his brother and asked, "Any ideas?"

Dean shook his head, it was obvious he had little idea where the dog had gone. "Do you think he followed her out?"

"Sh," Sam hushed his brother as he noticed a faint whistling sound. It took him a moment to pinpoint the sound as coming from beneath bed. Drawing the gun that rested in the small of his back, Sam, eased forward.

"What the hell's that noise?" Dean asked as Sam offered him his gun. He took the offered gun and eased to the floor, once there he nodded. Sam reached down and tugged up the bed skirt that hid the space under the bed.

888

Gun at the ready, Dean nearly pulled the trigger at the site of two large brown eyes peering back at him. The only thing that stopped him was the low whine and a familiar thumping sound.

"Jack," Dean breathed as he held his hand out to the dog.

"No way," Sam muttered as he dropped to his stomach next to Dean. "How the hell did he fit himself in there?"

Dean had no idea, the space was so tight, Jack couldn't fully lift his head, and his tail seemed to be the only thing he was capable of moving. "Got me, but I don't think he can get back out."

Jack had managed to crawl into the two-foot space between the floor and the box spring of Sara's bed. He now lay whining softly, while he stared at the brother's with a pair of sad eyes. "Dumb dog, how'd you get under there," Dean said softly as he slid himself gingerly toward the bed. With only the smallest of groans, he stretched his arm under the bed and dug his fingers into Jack's thick fur.

"We're gonna have to lift the bed off him, so he can get out."

"Seems like," Dean replied. At his touch, Jack's whimpers became whines and his tail thumped even harder. "I gotta say big guy I'm a bit disappointed, you're not looking so tough right now," Dean told the dog as he continued to stroke his head. At his words Jack wriggled a bit, stretching toward him.

"Well, to be fair, he's a snow dog. He was bred to deal with avalanches in the Alps, not tornado force winds. Dog's are sensitive to barometric pressure, when it dropped it probably freaked him out."

Dean nodded and withdrew his hand, ignoring the dog's throaty growls. "Alright, let's get this thing up so we can free him."

As soon as he gained his feet, Jack's growls became a short high-pitched bark and the bed began to shake slightly. The next thing Dean knew, Jack began to emerge from beneath the bed. His huge paws came first, digging into the rug for purchase as he clawed his way out. Quicker than Dean could have guessed the dog was out from beneath the bed and sitting on his boots.

"Holy shit, I can't believe he got out on his own," Sam breathed as he reached out and ran his hands over Jack's fur.

Dean didn't bother trying to extract his feet, he only shifted slightly to keep from being knocked over by the dog's weight. "We're gonna have to do something about his feet. This glass'll shred his paws."

"I have an idea," Sam said as he moved toward the bathroom.

"Good," Dean sighed, speaking softly to the dog as he continued to try to settle him. "'Cause I wasn't planning on carrying your ass out of here."

Sam returned in a minute with two bath mats in his hand. "The rubber matting should help," he said as he laid the mat down on the floor. "We just need to get him to the hall, there's no glass on the rug or down the steps. We're probably gonna have to shut him in the basement, that's the only place that doesn't have glass."

Dean shook his head as he urged Jack up and onto the mat. Sam then laid the next mat, making Jack a path to follow. "We need him, he's gonna find Sara for us."

Sam took the now empty mat and moved it in front of Jack, leading the dog out of the room. Dean followed the two of them, trying to ignore the guilt that assaulted him at the idea of leading Jack into danger, or well following him as the case may be.

"If it'll save Sara..." Sam's voice trailed off as he led the dog down the stairs.

Dean watched as Sam threw open the front door, that was directly across from the stairs, and made a walkway for the dog to cross the glass littered floor. Once outside, Jack stopped on the stoop and looked back up the stairs at Dean. Gone was the shaking mass of frightened fur that they'd earlier found under the bed. Standing in his place was Jack, solid, dependable, loyal to the fault, every inch the rescue dog he'd been bred to be.

They were going to find Sara, and find her in time, Dean felt sure of it. "Grab what we're gonna need, Sam, I'm gonna see if Jack can pick up the trail."

888

"I know you're awake, there's no reason not to face me."

Sara ignored the voice and kept her eyes closed. She needed a moment to figure out where the hell she was. The last thing she remembered, she had been lying on her bed. Dean had awoken her to tell her that Sam was out and he was going to do a perimeter check. After that, everything was blank.

If the feel of hard earth her under cheek was any indication she was no longer in her house, let alone, in her bed. Gone were the cool, clean sheets and soft mattress. Instead, she could hear the sound of running water and the smell of cedar being born by a steady breeze. If she had to guess, she would figure she was on her property somewhere near the running trail she used.

Earlier she'd heard Sam and Dean conversing about the vampire that was wreaking havoc in her life. She vaguely remembered one of them saying that the creature was most likely living in a stand of cedar trees near the stream. That meant she was only a little over half a mile from the house.

Sara's heart leapt into her throat as she realized just what it mean if she were no longer under Dean's watchful eye. "Dean," she breathed, fear for the man overriding her plan to stay silent.

"The hunter? No worries, he's been taken care of," the voice growled, "it was actually much easier than I thought it would be. That damn fortress of yours has caused me more trouble than you can imagine."

"Good," Sara rasped as she opened her eyes and forced her body to move. Carefully she edged onto her back, and pushed herself upright. At some point darkness had finally fallen, leaving a forest full of shadows. At first, Sara assumed it was the dim light that kept her from seeing clearly, then she realized that her glasses were missing. "Shit." That was certainly going to make things more difficult. Feeling adrift in the dark not knowing where her enemy was, left her quaking on the forest floor. Never, not even during her confrontation with Gordon had she felt so helpless.

"Now, now, there's no real reason to cry, you know. I don't plan on killing you."

Though she hadn't realized it at first the voice was right, tears were making tracks down Sara's face. Ordering herself to suck it up, she rubbed an arm across her face and spat, "If you're not killing me then I'll just be going." She suited her actions to her words and gained her feet, facing the direction the voice had come from. No matter how she strained all she could see were more shadows. One of which seemed to be moving independently from the others. Determined to face the monster on her own terms, Sara kept the shadow within her sights. She might be all but blind but that didn't mean she would cower before it. She had managed to take only one unsteady foot forward when the voice spoke.

"Sit, before you fall down. I wouldn't want you injuring yourself."

"Bite me," Sara snapped as she took another step. She knew what the creature wanted her for, and there was no way in hell she was going to go along with its plans. The idea of the Anchanchu entering her home and coming in contact with her children, all the while wearing her body was repugnant to say the least. There was no way she was going down without a fight.

"I said, sit!"

Something knocked Sara's legs out from under her, dropping her to the ground with bone jarring thump. Despite her intentions, a faint groan escaped her as pain shot up her spine. This time she stayed down and opted for distraction.

"You said you weren't looking to hurt me."

The deep disembodied voice replied with a hint of humor. "I didn't harm anything other than your pride, and trust me when I say you won't be needing it anymore. In fact, soon, all your worries will end at last."

As Sara listened, she worked hard to keep the shadow in her sight. The idea of losing what little advantage she had scared her to death. "Would you be surprised if I said I didn't want my worries to end?"

A boom of laughter rolled through the woods. "Oh, come on, surely you have to be thinking it'd be a blessing. Hell, I've only scratched your surface and already I question if I really want your life."

Back and forth the sound moved as the creature paced. It was obvious that it was anxious about something. A tiny voice in the back of Sara's mind suggested it might be a sign of its eagerness instead. Sara worked hard to ignore that voice. "My life is wonderful. Or at least it was until you came along."

"Right, the loss of your mate. The constant and never ending worry of raising your young alone. You're every waking moment is a struggle to survive. Who wouldn't want that?"

Sara couldn't help but laugh. "I don't know where you get your information, pal, but you are way off base."

"I don't think so, I've seen into your heart I've tasted the depression that's eating away at you."

Sara suddenly realized the creature was right. She had allowed Dean's absence to drag her down. How stupid she'd been not to take the blessings in her life and concentrate solely on them. She might miss Dean with every last breath she had, but never would she consider giving up. She wasn't that person, she was someone that moved forward out of sheer pig-headed stubbornness if there was nothing else to rely on. She had her children, her family, her career, and the memory of two great loves. It was enough.

"You've snagged yourself the wrong girl. I'm not sad, or depressed, I have no interest in ending my life and no intention of giving it up either. So if it's a fight you were looking for, It's a fight you've found."

The shadow loomed closer. Every instinct in Sara's body screamed at her to lean away, to close her eyes and shut out the sight of the fairy. Sara stiffened her spine instead. There was little chance she'd be able to save herself from the monster. However, if she refused to even try that little chance became no chance at all.

"You lie, I have seen you restless, roaming the dark corridors at night, your heart heavy.

Sara suddenly felt slightly better, the agitation in his voice suggested that she had one last card to be played. It was obvious in order for this monster to take her over she needed to be weak in spirit as well as in body. "What, you've never been hit with a bout of insomnia, it's a bitch I can tell you that."

"No, no that's not right. I've seen you're suffering, I've seen the tears you've shed-"

"Nope, not me. No suicidal tendencies here." Sara interrupted knowing that she spoke the truth. She wanted to live and to do so, she needed to throw off the creature. She needed time, time for Dean to find her. The fact that he would despite what the Anchanchu said was a surety in her book. If something had happened to Dean she would have felt it in her heart. The feeling of defiance, not matter how small, left Sara smugly grinning up at the creature that lurked nearby.

Apparently, the grin wasn't appreciated as something struck Sara hard and fast across the face. The blow caused a throbbing in her cheek that made her see stars. She was right he was becoming flustered. At worst she wondered if it would be possible to have the creature kill her outright. At least that way she knew her family would be safe, and Sam and Dean would have far less trouble dealing with the fairy if she wasn't there to worry about.

The idea that this creature would be able to approach her kids with them none the wiser was the thing that worried her most. Determined not to let that happen, Sara clung to her defiance and took strength from it.

"I won't go quietly. You can be sure of that. I might not be able to stop you from taking me over, but, he will."

She had little doubt that the fairy would know the him, she referred to. If he'd spent any time at all observing her, he'd realize there was only one man it could be.

"Bah, you speak of the hunter, he's nothing to me. I have taken care of him, as I took care of the others. None posed a problem for me."

Sara's bravado faded as the Fairy's words sunk in. "What others? What are you talking about?"

Fetid breath caressed Sara's cheek as the creature leaned toward her, his face suddenly in focus, and spoke.


	15. Chapter 15

"How's the shoulder

"How's the shoulder?"

Dean gently flexed his arm and nodded. "Not bad actually, I was lucky."

Sam shuddered as he pictured the destruction of Sara's house. "If you'd been standing near the back door or in the living room..."

"Yeah, but I wasn't. I'm okay."

Sam knew his brother was telling him, in a not so subtle way, to back off. However, Sam couldn't shake the image of finding his brother bleeding and unconscious on the floor. It was an image that had haunted his sleep all too often.

A low whine brought Sam's attention back to the matter at hand. Jack had been leading the men unerringly through the forest for the last ten minutes now. Sure-footed and strong, the dog had led them along a well-worn path, seemingly understanding what Dean had asked of him.

Now though, his nose was on the ground, and the whimpers continued almost as if he had lost the scent and was trying to find it again. Sam watched the dog do a little dance, his front feet coming off the ground several times, before he at last gave a short bark.

"He's telling us something," Dean said, as Jack stared up at both hunters, his eyes imploring them to understand.

"Yeah, but what? We don't have time to play charades."

Dean moved forward, and dropped the bag he was carrying. He gingery took a knee and ruffled the dog's thick fur. "Come on, big fella, we need to find Sara. Where's Sara?"

This time Jack's exasperation with the humans was all too clear. With a yip, he butted his head into Dean's chest, knocking the hunter backwards.

"Argh," Dean complained as Jack proceeded to follow him to the ground and continue to bump him with his head, not allowing him to sit back up. "Sam, grab him."

It was difficult, but finally Sam managed to grasp Jack's thick red collar and pull, and pull some more. Arms straining, he at last managed to get the dog off Dean. If it wasn't for the happy sounds the animal was making, Sam would have thought he'd suddenly gone crazy.

"What the hell's wrong with him?" Dean asked as he staggered to his feet.

Even in the dim light of the flashlight, Sam could see Dean wince in pain as he worked his bad shoulder back and forth. Jack meanwhile continued to tug and pull at Sam's hold, his movements becoming stronger and stronger as he fought to get loose. Then with a mighty wrench, he managed to slip his collar.

Once free, Sam was sure the dog would go after Dean once more. Instead, he dropped to the ground with a thud, his head between his paws and whined.

"You don't think the winds going to start up again, like at the house? Maybe he's warning us?" Sam asked as he watched Jack's strange behavior.

"He's not scared. He's found something, I just don't know what."

"Damn, you're right, like when he finds Jess's wubby," Sam said referring to the times Sara had used the dog to track down Jessica's most beloved toy.

Dean shone his light over the forest floor trying to find whatever it was that Jack insisted was there. Sam added his beam to Dean's and bent down for a closer look.

"I'll be damned," he muttered as his light skittered over a bit of black plastic. Reaching out he picked up the glasses that had been lying half-covered by dead leaves. "They're broke. Sara won't be happy about that."

Dean held his hand out for the flattened black framed glasses and Sam obliged. "They're not broke, they just need..." Dean muttered as he pushed the arms back into position, "straightening."

"Good as new," Sam said as he watched Dean tuck the glasses back into his pocket. To Sam, the glasses were a sign that they were on the right track. However, if his brother's expression was anything to go by, Dean was less than thrilled over the find. "Dean, it's a good thing, it means she came this way."

Dean nodded and shrugged as he turned toward Jack. "Good dog," Dean said as he encouraged the Saint Bernard on once more.

The dog took off at a fast clip obviously heartened that they'd found something of Sara's. Sam very nearly called him back to re-fasten the collar he'd slipped out of but the dog was obviously on a roll. "What?" Sam asked as he fell into formation next to his brother.

"It's just..." Dean's pause gave voice to just how upset he was, "she's out here, on her own. You saw how weak she was Sam, how's she gonna fight this thing off long enough for us to get there?"

The same doubts had been plaguing Sam since he had found out what was preying on Sara. He had no answer to offer up to his brother. The only thing he could do was to remind Dean of just how strong the widow was. Hoping to hell he didn't make things worse, Sam said, "She's more capable than you realize."

As they cut through the darkness, Jack a beacon of white before them, Dean glanced toward Sam. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's just..." Sam hesitated, afraid that he'd made the wrong decision but in too deep to stop. "Sara didn't give in to Gordon. She's not going to give up now."

"You're the one that killed Gordon, before he could gut me, Sam. It was your skill that saved us all, not Sara's will to live."

Deciding it was high time Dean learned just what Sara was willing to do to save those she loved, Sam blurted out, "You're wrong, I didn't shoot Gordon."

Dean stopped so suddenly, Sam actually ran into him. With a small shove, the elder Winchester, pushed his brother back and demanded, "What the hell are you talking about? You shot Gordon. I was losing, so you put a bullet in the bastard."

Sam shook his head, his gaze avoiding his brother's penetrating stare. "No, Dean. I was ready to take the shot, but Sara fired before I could get it off. She's the one that killed Gordon. She saved you."

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't anyone tell me?" Dean asked his voice full of betrayal.

"Sara didn't want you to know. She thought you'd feel guilty if you knew she killed him. She wanted to protect you."

Dean swung round, turning his back on his brother. Without another word he took off after Jack, closing the gap that had widened when they stopped.

"I know you're pissed, but my reason for telling you was to point out that Sara's more than capable. This Anchanchu is going to have a hell of a time possessing her," Sam insisted as he caught up to his brother.

"You don't get it, Sam. I was supposed to protect her, not the other way around."

This time it was Sam that snapped in anger, "Well, maybe it's time you realize that she doesn't need or want your protection, Dean. She just wants you."

"She really shot him?"

"She never hesitated. That's the day I realized just how strong she really is." Sam glanced at his brother from the corner of his eye, trying to judge Dean's reaction.

The stiffness with which Dean held his shoulders seemed to ease as he agreed, "That she is. I just wish..."

"She didn't have to be," Sam finished. "I get that, I do. But you have to admit Dean, we were no where near her this time and she still managed to find trouble." Sam sighed, thinking over the conversation he'd held with Sara earlier in the evening. "I wonder if she's right, if we're just stalling the inevitable."

"What do you mean stalling?"

"Stalling her inevitable death, you hypocrite. You think I haven't had the same thought about you. I've watched you skirt death more times than I care to count, Dean. I live every moment of my life afraid that one of these days a reaper's going to finally get lucky and I'll lose you."

"Sam,--" Dean started.

"No. Don't. I know there's nothing to be done. It's just, I'm starting to wonder if Sara's not in the same boat. Maybe it's not us bringing death to her doorstep, maybe it's us keeping it away."

"There's a cheery thought, she's being stalked by death. Nice, Sam." Regardless of his words, Dean's tone suggested that Sam had made his point.

"The way I see it, we can leave it to fate and walk away from her, or we can do everything in our power to protect her. Either way she might die, but at least if we stay we know we tried."

Dean's pace increased as he urged Jack on, calling over his shoulder, he said, "Pick up the pace, Sammy. She's not dying on my watch."

888

Sara couldn't breathe, she couldn't move. Her thoughts turned to mush as the creature came into focus. She wasn't sure what she'd expected, but now she could see that her earlier joke about a fairy with the fangs wasn't so far off the mark.

Withered, and obviously ancient, with a body little bigger than a small boy, the monster would have seemed nearly harmless if not for the carnivorous mouth. Its shark-like grin held row after row of jagged, yellow teeth. Small beady eyes that reflected the moonlight like black obsidian watched her reaction with unabashed pleasure.

"Come now, you didn't really think I would allow anyone to come between us?" The creature purred as he reached out and caressed her cheek with one wasted claw of a hand. "Your...friend...he was becoming suspicious. In fact, I'm still not sure he wasn't the one to bring the hunters here."

It was the Anchanchu's deep rumbling laugh that snapped her out of her panic and helped her to focus. "What did you do?" she demanded, her words sounding much weaker than she'd have liked. She didn't want to admit the little she'd seen of the creature was the stuff of nightmares. Instead, she concentrated on its words.

"Surely, you haven't forgotten him? He was so concerned with your...hm...strange behavior."

Sara lunged forward, her heart already screaming what she needed him to confirm. "You mean Brian? What did you do?"

"I removed him from the equation. I couldn't just sit by and allow him to alert you to my presence. He had realized something beyond simple depression was tearing you down. I needed him gone."

"You bastard, you killed him." Saying the words aloud was enough to make Sara feel like throwing up. Biting back the urge, she instead closed her eyes. Brian had been her and Jason's closest friend. In the months after Jason's death he'd helped her in too many ways to describe. He'd acted as doting uncle to her children, and had helped her through the long months of her pregnancy.

Even later, when she'd found Dean, he'd continued to be her friend despite his own feelings toward her. Tears made their way down Sara's cheeks as she thought back to the last time she'd seen him. Now, looking back she realized that at the time he had become suspicious of her behavior. The lethargy that seemed to come and go randomly had troubled him, leaving him to voice his concerns. If only she'd listened instead of waving off his concern.

"You were too strong, too knowledgeable, and I needed access to you. If you'd become aware of what was happening you would have become...difficult. As it was, I had to contend with your house. You don't know the lengths I had to go to in order to draw you out."

"You're going to die," Sara spat as she pushed aside her grief, more determined than ever to destroy the creature that had killed her friend.

With a crow, the fairy seemed to dance backward, his feet only ghosting over the ground. As he retreated to the shadows once more, Sara caught a blurry glance of his filthy body. Covered in little more than scraps of leaves the creatures body was wrinkled with age. Though she couldn't see them, she wondered if he had wings like a fairy or if he was more substantial like a vampire.

The combination of darkness and her own lack focus kept her from seeing too much. Sara counted that as a blessing. She wasn't sure how much more she could take. Already, the thought of Brian losing his life simply because he cared about her was enough to deal with at the moment. Her mind ghosted over the creature's earlier words. "You said others?"

This time a hint of anger touched the Anchanchu's words, "You can thank your dear hunter for that piece of work. Greg was clueless, he unwittingly provided me with the perfect lure to get you out of the protection of the house. Each time you so solicitously walked him to his car...well, lets just say the hunters were right on one score, every one of your attacks happened while Greg was around."

Sara shook her head in denial. "If he was harmless then why?"

"I lost my temper," the creature responded, once again seeming to pace. This time Sara was sure it was in anger rather than any other emotion.

"They've been guarding you too closely. I was unable to feed on you."

Sara's hand ghosted to the back of her neck where she trailed her fingers over the spot Sam had pointed out earlier. Revulsion poured through her at the thought that he'd been feeding off of her for weeks now. Fighting back the vomit that threatened, Sara turned her attention once more to the creature.

"My hunger grew too great to ignore, I caught him as he left the house. It was a dumb move as you so very kindly exited the house only a half-hour later to grab some air," the fairy stated his tone making it clear that he regretted his hasty meal, not the death of the man. "It really is a shame, I was saving him to be your first meal."

Anger began to slide through Sara once more, pushing away all other feelings. This was not something she'd done, this was something that had been done to her. Well, no more, she was no longer oblivious to what was happening, there had to be something she could do to grab the upper hand.

"So sorry to make things more difficult for you," she snapped.

"No worries," the fairy answered smugly, "I've already got a new victim lined up."

Visions of her children swam through her head at the Anchanchu's words. Without thought, Sara surged to her feet, ignoring the threat the fairy posed, caring only for the safety of her kids.

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"He's found her," Dean shouted as he broke into a shambling run doing his best to catch up to Jack. The dog's white fur stood out starkly against the dark forest making it easy to follow him in the moonlit night.

Jack had picked up his pace to the point that the men could barely keep up. With his better eyesight and sense of smell, the animal had no problem ducking and dodging his way through the woods. Dean and especially Sam weren't so lucky. Dean was having a hard enough time himself, but for Sam who stood nearly four inches taller it was a constant struggle to keep from being decapitated by a low hanging branch.

"We're losing him, Dean. Call him back," Sam gasped as they continued pell-mell through the forest.

Afraid to go full-volume, Dean barked out a low, "Jack, down." In normal circumstances the command would have been enough to make Jack drop to the ground in an instant. While the bear-like dog sometimes ignored commands given by Sam or the kids, he had never disobeyed a direct order from either Sara or Dean, until now. The dog didn't even hesitate, he just continued on his way, the only sound of his passage was his heavy footfalls as his paws grabbed for purchase in the forest floor.

"Shit," Dean whispered as he picked up his pace even more. His head pounded from the earlier blow and he was pretty sure the cut on his shoulder was bleeding freely once more, ignoring his own pain, he instead concentrated on catching the dog.

No matter how fast the brothers ran, it seemed as if Jack continued to pull away, his nose to the ground, no hesitation on his part. At last with a low growl, he dove through a patch of brush and disappeared from sight.

"No," Sam cried as he pulled ahead of Dean.

Before Dean could stop him, Sam launched himself after the dog and was gone. His father's training prevented Dean from rushing after his brother and the dog. Instead, he ground to a halt, pulled his handgun and eased his way through the brush. What he found surprised him to no end.

There before him was Sam and Jack, the former standing with his gun pulled, as the latter tore into the forest floor seemingly determined to excavate a tunnel large enough for him to fit in. It took Dean only moments to realize they were standing in the middle of a path. He was more than familiar with the track that wound its way through the forest, Sara often used it for jogging. Jack had managed to make the hour-long trek take only a half-hour by cutting through the forest.

"What the hell's he doing, Dean?" Sam questioned as he kept careful watch over the forest surrounding them.

Dean pulled his flashlight and trailed the light over Jack. The dog showed no reaction to the light or Dean's sudden appearance. His bear-like head was hunched low to the ground, the muscles in his shoulders flexed as his two front paws dug at the dirt, kicking up flying chunks of earth. It looked as if he was trying to dig his way under the rotten trunk of a massive tree.

Faster than Dean could have imagined, Jack had already dug himself out a space big enough for him to wedge his shoulders in. Unsure of what to do, Dean turned to Sam. "This thing didn't bury her did it?"

Sam shook his head. "No, I mean what would it gain. No, he's onto something I just can't tell what."

"A lair, maybe? I mean it's a fairy, right? That means magic. Maybe this thing's hidden itself in some kind of cavern and Jack's making a way in."

Jack was now trying to thrust himself under the tree trunk, as he continued to work at the dirt. Other than a low growling sound he made little noise.

"He's almost through, Dean," Sam said, as he neared the dog.

Despite what he'd said earlier about sacrificing the dog, to save Sara, Dean knew he couldn't allow the dog to squeeze through the hole first. Unprotected, the animal would have little chance against the supernatural creature that waited on the other side. Determined to stop the animal, Dean stepped forward and grabbed a handful of the thick fur that covered Jack's massive neck.

"Jack, down." Dean commanded as he pulled.

Quicker than he could have imagined, Jack turned and locked his teeth against Dean's wrist with a growl that caused chills to run up Dean's spine. Incapable of moving his arm, he couldn't help but send out a prayer of thanks that the dog was obviously intent on stopping him, rather than hurting him. Otherwise, Dean could have kissed his gun hand goodbye.

With a growl more suitable to a wild animal than the goofy dog that liked to eat skittles, Jack tugged on Dean's arm causing the hunter to hit the ground. The moment Dean was on the ground, Jack resumed digging his paws shredding the ground even faster.

Sam was at his side in an instant, taking up the arm that Jack had grabbed. "Holy crap, man, I thought..."

Dean nodded as he watched Sam's flashlight beam trace his right hand. Though, he had little doubt he'd have bruising tomorrow the skin on his arm was unbroken and the pain was already fading fast. His watch hadn't fared as well. One of Jack's teeth had gone through the glass face, putting an end to it's time keeping abilities. "He wasn't trying to hurt me. Just stop me."

Sam snorted as he offered Dean a hand up. "He stopped you alright."

Just as he gained his feet, Jack broke through to whatever was on the other side of the log. With a low cry, the dog thrust himself under the tree trunk, his hind feet scrabbling to push his big body through the gap he'd created. Then, Jack was gone, leaving nothing but a gaping hole in his absence.

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Sara wasn't sure what she expected, but charging into the solid body of the Anchanchu wasn't it. She'd launched herself at the creature purely out of instinct, fear for her kids egging her on. If she'd taken a moment to really think about it, she would have assumed that the creature was corporeal, that his body was made up of a combination of magic and her own imagination.

It was only as her arms wrapped around his middle and she and the tiny fairy hit the ground with simultaneous groans of pain that it really registered what she'd done. Before she could come up with an actual plan, the Anchanchu wrenched itself free with a hiss and a kick to her face.

Luckily Sara dodged just as his foot swung, causing the blow to land on her shoulder rather than her chin as it had intended. Winded by the pain, but unwilling to give up her chance at freedom, Sara reached out and grabbed for him once more. She had little idea what to do with him once she had him in her grasp, but anything was better than allowing this creature to destroy anyone else.

With a squeak of surprise the vampire fairy darted backwards, his feet never making contact with the ground, leading Sara to believe he must have wings that she'd yet to see. Thrown off by her aggression, the creature seemed to forget it had magic and an assortment of supernatural powers in its possession. Instead when Sara grabbed hold it turned on her, it's long sharp claws going straight for her face.

Ready to die rather than let go, Sara tightened her grip and ducked her head. Pain flared in her right arm as the creature's nails dug into her skin. With a cry, she forced her quickly tiring body to roll, pulling the fairy off balance even more as she pinned it's lower half with her greater weight.

Able to do no more than hold on and protect her face, Sara couldn't stop the claws that tore at her back and shoulders. As she weakened, the fairy's cries seemed to grow, as if he was taking strength from her quickly debilitating state. Knowing she had little time left, Sara concentrated on just holding on.

Holding on, it was one of the few things she truly excelled at, whether physically or mentally, no one had more tenacity than she did. He would come for her, of that she had little doubt. Her only job was to make sure she hung on until he did.

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In a split second, Dean crossed the clearing, dropped to his knees and began pulling large piles of earth away from the tunnel that Jack had created. As he worked to make the hole bigger, he called out to Sam. "Get your binding spell ready. He's gotta be here."

Dean wanted to say a prayer of thanks as his brother dropped to one knee and began preparing the spell without arguing. Now that he knelt near the opening he could hear the sound of an angry struggle going on. Jack seemed to be in the thick of it, though his weren't the only cries by far. Spurred on by the noise, Dean drug back one last mound of dirt and thrust his arms, followed by his head and shoulders through the hole. His entrance was critical of that he had no doubt. He would be basically unable to defend himself until he was at least more than half-way through.

Pushing with his feet, he wriggled his body under the huge tree trunk. Once through to the other side, he used his arms and shoulders to help lever his legs out.

Chaos reigned on this side of the tree, was Dean's only thought as he struggled to his feet. A glance over his shoulder showed him only the fallen tree, no sign of Sam or the path. Jack had indeed found the lair of the Anchanchu. The area was little more than a ten foot circle, at the side opposite Dean, Jack was lunging toward something, he couldn't see, the dog's now hoarse cries giving voice to just how angry he was.

Stumbling a bit, Dean drew his gun once more. Though he knew it would have little effect on the creature, he was confident that filling the thing with silver rounds would at least hold its attention long enough for Sam to complete the spell.

Just before he headed into the fray, Dean threw a glance over his shoulder and spotted Sam's arms emerging from the tunnel. Confident that his brother was on his way, he concentrated on finding Sara.

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Sam was stuck, there was no doubt about it. Unable to go forward, his only option was a retreat. Problem was that left Dean, Sara and Jack at the mercy of the Anchanchu. He was half-tempted to perform the spell from his side of the tree trunk, his only concern was whether or not it would work through whatever protection the fairy had erected. Jack had carved a way into its lair, but that didn't mean he had broken the spell.

Sounds of the battle drifted to Sam through the opening urging him to make a decision. Right or wrong, something needed to do be done, and done quickly. Left with little choice, Sam wedged himself into the opening and began his chant. As he did he gathered the supplies needed and began. Using a poppet to symbolize the fairy, he then began to sprinkle the symbol with salt water. Thrusting his arms through the hole, Sam continued to chant putting his faith in the spell.

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Dean raced across the opening in time to see Jack lunge at a creature no bigger than a small child. All but naked, the wrinkled little fairy was gruesome to say the least. His skin was covered in dirt and grim, he wore little more than a loincloth made up of leaves and vines. His tiny black eyes seemed to reflect the moonlight, and his lips were pulled back in snarl, exposing his shark-like teeth. His hands were curled into claws, and his nails were thick and wicked sharp. On its back a pair of brown, leathery-looking wings flapped madly causing the air around it to swirl.

Faced with the charging dog and Sara who clung to its legs, the creature struggled to break free. Over and over again it clawed at Sara's back. A howl of rage gave voice to just how frustrated it was with the widow's seemingly unbreakable grip. Dean was unsure what Sara's game plan was, but it seemed to him to be a good time to interrupt. Jack seemed to agree, as he lunged at the creature his snapping jaws aiming for the fairy's wings. With a vicious snapping sound, the dog grabbed hold of one of the bat-like wings and tugged, the fairy's slight weight no match for the animal's strength. As Jack tugged, the creature slipped free of Sara's hold. Unrelenting the dog continued to shake his head, his teeth firmly latched onto the fairy's wing.

Dean moved to Sara's side. Carefully, he eased her onto her back, his eyes searching for any sign of life. He knew he needed to check for a pulse, but he was too scared to confirm what he already believed. There was no sign of life in the woman he held. If her chest rose and fell with her every breath, his sharp eyes couldn't see it in the dim light. Her skin felt cold to the touch, and her face was as pale as ivory, her eyes remained firmly closed even when he called to her.

Holding her to his chest, Dean looked up to see Jack still battling with the Anchanchu. The dog had managed to rip off one of the creatures wings and was desperately trying to grab the fairy once more. It was a losing battle though. Regardless of the fact that the monster had only one wing, he was obviously beginning to get the upper hand.

His sharp claws tore at jack whenever the dog came near and it had begun to mutter to himself. The louder the muttering grew, the harder the wind blew. Dean really wasn't sure just how much more abuse the dog could take. Blood streaked his beautiful coat from a dozen different places, and he'd begun to limp.

Dean hunched himself over Sara's body, and yelled for Jack to stand down. Instead of listening the dog seemed to re-double his efforts, his sharp teeth snapping over and over again as he worked to pin the fairy. Determined to help, Dean leveled his gun at the fairy and waited for his shot.

It never came, instead with an earsplitting scream, the fairy flapped his one remaining wing and a blast of ice-cold wind blew across the clearing. If Dean hadn't been half-lying already, the icy blast would have knocked him clear off his feet. As it was the air tore at his clothing and hair, tugging the still unconscious Sara from his arms. It took every bit of his remaining strength to hold onto her, as he tried to protect her from the debris that were thrown up by the gale force wind.

As quickly as it had started the wind died down. Dean looked up in surprise to find the fairy frozen only feet away. Arms locked at his side the creature seemed unable to move anything other than its head. A glance toward the opening showed Sam's long arms thrust through the hole, the poppet bound with scarlet ribbon held tightly in one hand.

Dean couldn't help but smile wearily as he watched Sam pull his hands back through. It was obvious that his sasquatch of a brother hadn't been able to fit through the hole. Turning his attention back to Sara, Dean gently stroked her cheek trying work up the courage to feel for a pulse.

He didn't know what he'd do, if he couldn't find one. Though he'd chosen to walk away from Sara, never had he imagined she might leave him. The thought was enough to bring tears to his eyes. "Sara," he called his voice breaking with emotion.

"She's dead. There's nothing left of her," a snide voice insinuated.

Dean refused to allow the fairy's words to have weight. Sara wasn't gone, she would be okay, he had gotten to her in time. He wouldn't allow himself to believe otherwise. "Shut your mouth," he growled, his eyes never leaving Sara's face.

"Dean."

At the sound of Sam's voice, Dean did glance up. His gaze alighting on his brother's dirt encrusted form, as Sam made his way toward him. In that glance, Dean realized that the clearing had changed. The perfect circle was gone, trees littered the area, some of them growing right through where Jack had held off the fairy. The tree trunk they'd crawled under still lay on the forest floor, but now Dean could clearly see the path beyond it. Getting home would involve no more than a scramble to get over the log. It was obvious that the fairy's magic was ended.

"Sam," Dean answered as he his gaze briefly skittered over the mound of white and sable fur that lay nearby before darting back to Sara. "She won't wake up."

Sam dropped to the ground beside Dean and reached out a shaking hand to briefly touch Sara's forehead. He then traced his fingers gently down the side of her face to her neck. With the courage that Dean had been unable to muster, Sam felt for her pulse. The frown that furrowed his forehead made it clear he was unable to find one.

Hating the pleading sound of his own voice, Dean begged, "Please, Sam, please."

At last, Sam's face smoothed as he met Dean's worried gaze. "I feel it, it's weak and thready at best but she's alive."

"The heart might still beat, but you were too late, there's nothing left of the woman you knew," the fairy called out, his low chuckle interrupted by the feel of Sam's boot in his side.

His brother loomed over the Anchanchu his foot drawn back for another blow. Though Dean himself would have gladly ripped the creature from limb to limb, they couldn't afford to waste anymore time. "We gotta get her up to the house. Any ideas?"

Sam glared at the creature once more and shrugged. "Beats me, to be honest I'm not sure there's much we can do other than carry them both out."

Again, Dean's eyes darted toward the unmoving mass of white fur before centering on Sara. "What do we do with the little guy? We can't just leave him, if that binding spell breaks..." Dean's voice trailed off as he and Sam exchanged long looks.

"Little guy, I'll have you know that I've destroyed-"

The rest of its statement was cut off when Sam drew back his size fourteen boot and kicked the creature once more.

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"Shut up," Sam snapped as he considered the problem at hand. His brother was right. Sara would have to be carried, and Jack. Sam glanced toward the dog and felt tears welling up at the sight of his thick white fur covered in blood, matted with grime. There was no way they were leaving Jack, the dog had undoubtedly saved Sara and most likely Dean.

"We'll need to build a travois for Jack. We can take turns pulling him, and carrying Sara."

Dean nodded and said, "I can carry her, if you can bring Jack out?"

The question in Dean's eyes as he glanced toward the dog was one that Sam couldn't answer. He'd taken only a moment to check on the animal before he'd gone to Sara's side. It had been enough to know that things weren't good.

"What about fugly over there? Can we banish him here?"

"Banish, now why would you young men want to banish me," the fairy pleaded seeming to suddenly realize he was in trouble. "I've got powers, I can grant you wishes."

Sam snorted and replied, "Leprechaun's grant wishes. You're just a mongrel bred fairy. Your powers were so weak you couldn't even get away from a woman and her dog."

The fairy tried his best to straighten despite the invisible binding spell that held him immobile and sneered, "They caught me off guard, I was just about to put a hex on them when that beast ripped my wing off."

"Witch's put hexes on people, not thousand year old raisin's," Dean snapped.

Sam couldn't help but grin at his brother's adept description of the little man that was bound before them. The diminutive creature did resemble a crinkled raisin, albeit, one with tiny black eyes, and wicked sharp teeth.

"I can save the woman, in fact, I'm probably the only one that can," the fairy said in a sly voice. "You kill me, you'll be killing her."

The weight of his older brother's gaze as he looked toward Sam for denial made him cringe. He was well out of his element in this one, he had no real idea of what had been done to Sara or if it was in fact permanent. What he was sure of, was the creature was offering up what the brothers wanted to hear simply to stall his own death.

He knew that Dean was looking to him for an answer, Sam gave him the only one he was able. "I don't know, Dean. But, if it were me, lying there...I'd want you to kill it and let me take my chances."

Dean nodded and sighed. "For it to do anything we'd have to release its binding. We'd just be setting ourselves up."

Sam knew just what it meant for his brother to come to that decision. Dean had never given up on anyone in his entire life. Choosing to risk Sara's life wasn't a choice he made lightly. "Get it done, Sam. We need to get them out of here."

**Chapter End Notes:**

Whew...right. Hopefully none of you fell asleep during that update...lol. I just didn't want to break it up, though I probably should have. Hope you liked and I'm gonna do my very best to wrap this up before Wednesday. Thanks for reading and drop me a line if you enjoyed - Kel


	16. Chapter 16

Dean shifted Sara slightly trying to ease the ache in his shoulder. Though he knew they were nearly at the house, the thought did little to alleviate the exhaustion that was dragging at him. He knew Sam fared little better.

It didn't help that he felt as if he were the lead in a funeral procession. Both Sara and Jack had shown no signs of waking up since the Anchanchu's last powerful blast of wind, just before the creature had flickered out of existence. Within moments of its banishment, Sam had gathered up their supplies and had done a quick triage on Jack. Dean had been dismayed by the number of wounds the dog had sustained.

Building the travois next to the dog, the brothers had carefully slipped him onto the contraption. Jack hadn't even whimpered. Dean couldn't help but wonder if they were just providing a change of scenery for the dog to die in. Unable to do any more than keep trying, Sam and Dean had moved out, Dean struggling under Sara's dead weight.

"We're nearly there," the sound of Sam's slightly breathless voice gave Dean the nudge he needed to keep going.

Then as he rounded the last bend he saw the house. Standing tall in the dim early morning light, Sara's home looked none the worse for wear despite it's missing windows. Home, Dean thought, as he stared up at the wood sided house, a twinge of relief flooding his burning muscles.

"Call 'em, Sammy," Dean continued up the lawn toward the house, not even bothering to go inside. Straight for the driveway, he only paused once he was on the macadam surface. There he found himself unsure of what to do next.

The sound of Sam's deep rumble re-assured Dean that his brother was in fact calling an ambulance. Both Winchesters had agreed that the damage done to Sara and Jack was far beyond their capacity to deal with. Especially, Jack. The dog hadn't even whimpered once since the fight and his pulse was becoming harder and harder to find.

Dean's confidence in Sara was slightly stronger, though bruised and bleeding from various cuts and scraps, he was able to find her pulse each time they paused. Weak at best, it was still there to be found. What worried him more was her lack of response. Not once had he been able to rouse her. Even a moan or heartfelt cry would have been preferable to her absolute stillness.

"Here, Dean, let me have her. You're done in, man," Sam said, as he stopped beside Dean, Jack's still form on the sled behind him.

"You've gotta be as tired as I am, Sam. Jack outweighs her by a good bit."

Sam's eyebrows drew together and Dean prepared himself for a lecture. Luck was with him though as Sam's tirade was cut off mid-sentence by the approaching sirens. Dean exchanged a glance of surprise with his brother and shrugged. "Slow night I guess."

A faint smile creased Sam's face as he said, "Well, that and the promise of a bear attack victim. I'm thinking they don't get that often."

"A bear?" Dean questioned, as he looked down at Sara. Leave it to Sam to explain away all the carnage in one smooth lie. Though not common, bear attacks would leave the victims looking a lot like Sara and her dog.

"Yeah well, I figured a Peruvian Vampire Fairy wouldn't exactly fly."

Despite the gravity of the situation, a snort of laughter burst from Dean. "True, very true." Dean watched as his kid brother, dropped to one knee beside Jack's side. "How's he doing?"

Sam shook his head, "I can't tell. I mean I still feel a pulse but..." Sam's voice trailed off giving weight to just how upset he was.

"He's gonna be fine," Dean growled, unable to image the Power's family without their fiercest protector. "Just fine."

At last, the ambulance roared down the driveway, the sound of the siren destroying the early morning calm.

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Sam roared into the parking lot of the veterinary hospital. More familiar with the layout of the building than he cared to admit, he pulled right up outside the emergency doors and jumped out. Not bothering with the side entrance, he went straight for the large double doors.

As promised, not a moment after he pulled up the doors swung wide and two techs pushed a low flat cart out to the Impala. In less time than it had taken to get him loaded into the car, the two young men were wheeling Jack into the building. The older of the two, was barking orders in between gathering some basic information from Sam.

"A bear?" the guy questioned Sam once more, clearly floored by his affirmative response.

"Yeah, came out of nowhere. Is he going to be okay?" Sam questioned, his voice giving way under the strain of the last couple of hours.

Despite an over abundance of begging and pleading the ambulance driver that attended to Sara had refused to send another rig out for Jack, leaving Sam to get the big dog to the clinic in record time. Succumbing to Jack's sweet face and Sam's own puppy-dog eyes, the paramedic had talked one of the local cops into giving Sam an escort.

If it wasn't for the severity of the situation, Sam and Dean would have shared a good long laugh over the sight of the Impala following a cruiser. Instead, they'd parted ways, Dean heading to the hospital with Sara, and Sam being left to follow the cop, with Jack barely breathing in the back seat.

The veterinary tech's voice brought Sam back to focus. "I don't know, we're going to have to assess the damage before we'll know anything. We'll send someone out for you as soon as we have anything to report."

Just like that, Sam found himself standing alone in the hallway, the events of the past six hours weighing heavy on him. Fear for Sara and to a lesser extent Jack, sheer exhaustion from the hike to and from the clearing, and the slightly nauseas feeling that he always attributed to too much adrenaline, left Sam feeling cold and sick. Needing some kind of reassurance, he found a quite corner of the waiting room and pulled out his cell phone.

It took only two rings before Dean's world-weary voice answered.

"Hey, Sam, how's Jack?" Dean asked before Sam could say a word.

Sam took Dean's question to mean that Sara was at the very least stable. "No clue, it doesn't look good though. The vet promised to let me know what's going on just as soon as they get him stable. How about Sara?"

"She's stable, or at least that's what they keep telling me." Dean's voice dropped another octave, making Sam strain to understand him. "She won't wake up."

"She's gonna wake up, Dean. We stopped the bastard before it could hurt her anymore. She's just...worn out, that's all," Sam insisted, hoping if he said the words often enough they'd hold true.

Dean's voice seemed to grow stronger as he agreed with Sam, "You're right, we just need to wait."

Sam had to smother a laugh at his brother's words, waiting was one of the few things that Dean truly sucked at. He found himself suddenly grateful that he had drawn Jack duty, as being enclosed in a tiny hospital room with Dean hopped up on caffeine and worry was a place Sam would rather avoid.

"Let me know if there's any change," Sam said just before he snapped the phone closed.

"Mr. Powers?"

At the familiar name, Sam turned and faced the young man he'd met earlier. "How's my dog?"

888

"Here, it won't cure what ails you, but it should help you to keep those pretty green eyes open wide."

Dean turned with a weary smile to face the matronly nurse that stood just behind him. Nurse Kulp had shown him nothing but kindness since he'd first show up in her waiting room. Despite the state of his clothes, or maybe because of them, she'd taken pity on him.

It had taken only the mention of Sara's name and the police's assurances that Dean had helped to drive the 'bear' off for the older woman to adopt him. As fast as the double doors, barring him from Sara, swung to a close, the nurse had a change of clothes ready for him, and several well meaning pats on his shoulder. Dean grateful to change into something clean, even if it was only scrubs, had accepted the pats with only a bit of wincing and had shrugged off her careful attempts to reassure him.

Since then she'd managed to get him into Sara's ICU room despite not being family and had returned every now and again to check up on him.

With a muttered thanks, Dean accepted the coffee and sipped, wincing a bit at it's bitter taste. As he watched the older woman bustle around the bed, taking notes on the chart she held in her hands, he couldn't help but ask, "How is she."

Nurse Kulp never lifted her eyes from the clipboard in her hand. "Getting stronger, honey. You just wait and see. Our Sara's a fighter, not even a bear's gonna be able to keep her down."

Surprised at the familiarity of the nurse's words Dean couldn't help but ask, "You know her?"

"Course I do, it's a small town and she's the same age as my daughter. Her and Jason went to school with my Karen. Not a week went by when they were growing up that I didn't see Sara."

It was obvious by the nurse's gentle touch that Sara still held a place in her heart. Dean took hope from the woman's words and reached out to rest a hand on Sara's arm. Touching Sara had become something close to a compulsion for Dean. It was his way of reminding the widow that he was here and here he would remain. He only hoped that sooner rather than later Sara would respond to his touch.

Setting aside his coffee cup, Dean leaned forward, the cut on his back pulling at the movement. As his eyes slipped shut he allowed himself to rest, the warmth of Sara's skin under his roughened hand lulling him to sleep.

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"Dean?"

Heart in his throat, Dean jerked awake and sat bolt upright. Turning toward the door, he saw Sara's brother Tom standing just behind him. Suddenly feeling as if he were under a microscope Dean swallowed hard and stood. He had always gotten on well with Tom, not once had Sara's older brother made him feel inferior or as if he wasn't good enough to be a part of Sara's life.

That however, had been before Dean had left Sara and her life behind. Now, he found himself nervous to see just how Sara's family would greet him. "Hey Tom," Dean said as he stepped forward to greet the older man.

Tom completely ignored the hand Dean held out in greeting and instead grasped his shoulders and pulled the surprised hunter in for a hard, fast, hug. Releasing Dean almost before he'd realized what had happened, Tom then moved to his sister's side. "What the hell happened to her? Dad mentioned a bear?"

Though tempted to tell the truth, Dean kept his answers to a minimum. He had little doubt that before this was all said and done, Sara would tell her father the truth, but that was it. She had made it clear on more than one occasion that she didn't want her brother or the rest of her family dragged into the world she now knew existed. If she'd had a choice she would have hidden the truth even from her father. Only problem was there had been too many times starting with when Jason died that the perceptive man had noticed more than he should have. In the end, Sara had come clean with him. Everyone else got the abridged version.

Aware of what Sara would want, Dean just nodded and said, "Jack saved her life."

Tom carefully lowered himself down into the seat that Dean had recently vacated and reached out to touch Sara's hand carefully. "Thank god the kids weren't there. Michael's gonna be heartbroken as it is."

"How'd you find out?" Dean asked still trying to play catch up. He'd only been at the hospital for a little over two hours now and he'd never thought to notify Sara's family.

Tom looked up at Dean his dark brown eyes sparkling as he took pity on the younger man. "You're brother said you might forget to call. Hell, can't say as I blame you. When something goes down and the woman you love is in the middle of it, reason seems to fly out the window. Sam called the house this morning and talked to dad."

Sam, leave it up to his brother to remember to notify Sara's family. His baby brother was nothing if not practical in emergencies. Dean had a tendency to go more on instinct then reason when the shit hit the fan, it was probably why he and Sam managed to deal so well together, together they could see all the angles.

"I'm sorry, Tom, I-"

"Don't, don't apologize. I just thank god you and Sam were there to get them out of the woods. Who knows what would have happened if you weren't," Tom interrupted before Dean could get out another word. The older man's gaze returned to his sister's still figure and he tightened the grip he had on her arm. "She's gonna be fine," he murmured sounding as if he was working to convince himself even more than Dean.

Desperate to keep both himself and Tom from falling into despair over the sight of Sara hooked up to every possible tube and wire, Dean asked, "You said Sam called you? Did someone call Judy about the kids?"

Tom dashed an arm across his eyes and stood, his gaze traveling toward Dean only after he wiped his eyes once more. "Um... Dad's headed for the kids now. He's gonna bring them back up to his house."

Dean snorted at the idea of Sara's father having to face down Judy. "Good luck to him, I'm sure this'll just be another reason for the bitch to give Sara crap."

"Yeah, most likely. Dad'll have no trouble, though, he can be pretty diplomatic when it serves his purpose. I'm sure at this moment he's sweet talking Judy into letting them go. It won't hurt that the woman doesn't really want them there anyway."

"And Jack?" Dean questioned hoping that Tom had an update on the big dog.

"Sam said he was torn up pretty good. They were most concerned about the blood loss, he was in pretty bad shape from what Sam said. His hind leg was especially torn up. Sam wasn't sure if they'd be able to save it."

"Shit," Dean breathed guilt riding him because he'd been unable to keep the family pet safe.

"Hey," Tom said with a ghost of his normal grin. "Better a Saint Bernard tangled with a bear than a Pomeranian. At least Jack stood a chance."

The idea of Sara owning a dog that weighed less than one of Jack's hairy paws was enough to make Dean smile. "Yeah, well you'd have to ask Sam, seeing as he hauled Jack out of the forest, but a Pomeranian would have been a bit easier."

Suddenly, the smile slipped from Tom's face and Dean had an anxious moment wondering what he'd said to set off the older man's frown.

"The forest? You mean it wasn't near the house?"

Afraid that he'd stepped in it now, but unable to figure out a way to deflect the question, Dean answered honestly, "It happened near the stream, about an hour in."

Again, Tom ghosted his sleeve over his face wiping away the lone tear that leaked from his eye at Dean's words. "God, we owe you guys everything. I didn't realize it had happened so far from the house. No one would have found fault if you'd left the dog there and just hightailed it out."

Dean avoided the look of gratitude that shown on Tom's face and shrugged. "Yeah, well Jack's family."

Tom nodded and then forced a chuckle. "That's true, he's loyal, brave and stubborn, I guess he is part of the family. Thanks for bringing him back, for better or worse at least you tried."

"You don't need to thank us," Dean said, uncomfortable with the praise. The way he saw it, they'd had no choice but to bring Jack home. The dog was a member of Sara's family, there was no way he could have faced her if he didn't at least try.

"I do need to thank you. More than once you've been there for her when she needed you." Tom's frown returned drawing his dark brows down. "My little sis seems to have a cloud of bad luck hanging over her head. Ever since Jason...well it just seems as if trouble finds her."

Dean had never heard a truer word, though he was sure if Tom knew just how much trouble seemed to follow his baby sister, the older man would probably never let her leave his side. "Can't argue with that."

"I was surprised when my Dad mentioned that you and Sam were at the house. How long you been in town?"

Here it goes, thought Dean, now the questions would start and then the accusations as to why he'd left all those months ago. "We got in little less than a week ago. Car trouble stranded us here."

Tom's gaze held no accusation as he stared hard at Dean for a moment. "I was under the impression that you and Sara..." Tom's voice trailed off allowing Dean to offer an answer.

Dean opened his mouth to answer with no real clue of what to say. At last he blurted, "Sara deserves someone that can be there for her 24/7, not a guy that can only swing through town now and again."

With a snort, Tom replied, "You know that's exactly what I said to my sister when you two first met. That she deserved more than what you could give. You wanna know what she said?"

Suddenly, more than anything Dean wanted to know what the widow's reply had been. Almost afraid of the answer Dean asked, "What?"

"She said every minute spent with you was worth the times in between, no matter how much she missed you when you were gone."

Pain ripped through Dean as he accepted Sara's words for the truth. She was right, before he'd left her for good, he'd always been able to leave with a smile, the anticipation of their eventual reunion allowing him to endure the separation. Once he'd left permanently, the separation had become unbearable.

"It's good to see you here, Dean," Tom said as he clapped the younger man on the shoulder and headed toward the hospital room door. "I'm gonna see about getting you something to eat, and maybe some coffee."

With that the doors slipped shut and Tom was gone, though his words still echoed in Dean's mind. With a weary sigh, he dropped back into the chair beside the bed and took Sara's hand once more in his own.

888

Bobby eased into the room, his eyes drawn to the narrow bed that dominated the space. As he approached it he couldn't hide his wince as he studied Sara's still form. Just before he'd kicked Dean out, the elder Winchester had reassured Bobby that Sara was on the mend. If this was better, than Bobby had good reason to be thankful he hadn't arrived sooner. He wasn't sure he could have taken much more.

Dean had been brutally honest in regards to Sara's condition. The younger woman, apart from the thirty or so stitches it took to repair the damage the fairy had done, was also suffering from blood loss. For the first two days the doctors had kept her sedated allowing her body to heal. According to Dean, she had only awoken for the first time earlier this morning.

"Well, damn, kid," Bobby whispered, dismayed by Sara's appearance. "You sure look like you tangled with a grizzly."

As Bobby eased into the plastic chair vacated by Dean, he noted the effort it seemed to take Sara to force her eyes open.

"Black bear, actually, we don't have grizzlies in Pennsylvania," Sara replied with a small grin. "What the hell, old man, it took you long enough to get here. What'd you do walk?" The younger woman asked as she reached for the bed remote.

Bobby pre-empted the moment and used the remote to raise the bed for her. "Walked?" he ground out, pleased that Sara felt well enough to trade barbs. "Hell, I pushed the pedal to the metal and still missed all the excitement."

With a slight groan, Sara said, "I don't know about you, but, I could have done with a bit less excitement."

"Ah, kid," he replied, as he reached out and laid a hand carefully on Sara's shoulder. "You and me both."

Bobby eased back pretending not to see the tears that welled in Sara's expressive green eyes.

"I saw the kids, they're all settled in at your folks," the older hunter blurted, uncomfortable with the raw emotion that flitted across the widow's face.

Sara seized the topic, seemingly grateful for the subject change. "They're very impressed Jack and I went up against a bear," she said with a smile. "Though, Dean's their real hero as he was the one to drive the creature off."

At the mention of Dean's name, Sara's gaze darted around the hospital room. Bobby had no doubt what she was thinking. It was evident in the controlled way she held herself and the tears that still lingered in her eyes.

"I sent him out for a cup of joe," Bobby said with a tired smile.

"Who?" Sara questioned feigning disinterest.

Bobby glared hard at the younger woman. He suddenly found himself with an urge to shake sense into her. As much as he cared for both Sara and Dean, he often had the urge to throttle them both. Two more stubborn, self-sacrificing, in love people he'd yet to meet.

Refusing to play along, Bobby growled, "Girl, you're as dumb as he is if you think I'm gonna buy that. Only reason he left your side is 'cause I threatened."

"Threatened? Don't flatter yourself, Bobby. I only left because I knew you get mean as a junkyard dog when you don't get a dose of caffeine."

Bobby turned to watch Dean enter the room. Until today he hadn't seen the younger man in nearly two months. It seemed as if Dean's self-imposed exile from the Powers family had left its mark on the hunter. Lean and pale, with dark shadows beneath his eyes, and the beginnings of a beard, Dean looked hard worn and more tired than Bobby could imagine.

At the sound of Dean's voice all the tension seemed to slip from Sara's body. A flush of color swept up her cheeks, and her green eyes seemed to sparkle a bit more.

As the elder Winchester moved toward the bed, three cups of coffee balanced in his hands, his grin became more genuine. "Thought you might feel up to a cup," he said as he eased closer, holding a cup out to Sara.

Sara seemed to hesitate before she reached out to grip the Styrofoam container with a small thanks. Bobby couldn't help but notice the tremors in her hand as she brushed against Dean. The younger hunter's jaw clenched just a fraction, and his smile slipped a bit at the contact, the heat in the room seemed to grow. Feeling like an intruder, Bobby found reason to look away.

888

As Sara's hand brushed against his own, Dean felt the world tilt. For so many months he'd denied his need for her, concentrating only on putting one foot in front of the other. Surviving without her was his only choice, he'd made sure of that. Then without much thought to what it would do to him, he'd come back to town. His intentions had been pure, he needed to ensure Sara's safety and in his line of business he hadn't had the luxury of ignoring his nightmares. The fact that he'd been right and that she was in trouble hadn't made things any easier.

Just being around her had left an ache in his heart that seemed to pulse with his every heartbeat. For better or worse Sara held his heart and she always would.

"You feeling any better?" he couldn't help but ask, regardless of the fact that he knew she had to be feeling like crap.

Sara cradled the cup to her chest and sighed softly. "Like crap."

Dean nodded and moved to the far side of the room, with a glance out the window at the overcast sky he offered, "Your Dad's got guys crawling all over the place, getting the windows fixed and the glass cleaned up."

What excuse did you use?" Bobby asked as he sipped his coffee.

Sara's grin was weak but beautiful nonetheless. "We've no clue how it happened. They think it might have been a rouge blast from the old quarry over by my place. They also believe that's what drove the bear to attack. Apparently they believe the pressure from the explosion drove him mad with fear."

"You're kidding, right? That's the bullshit they came up with to explain away the windows and your injuries?" Bobby asked his voice filled with disbelief.

"Yeah well, when there's no plausible explanation, most people are happy with whatever comes the closest. We said we were hiking, got hit by the bear, returned to the house to find the glass blown out." Dean didn't bother to mention just how glad he was that the authorities seemed to accept it. He'd been a little short of ideas on how to explain away the window glass.

"It helps that my closest neighbor also had the glass blown out of his windows. Makes it seem more plausible," Sara offered, her eyes slipping closed once more.

Dean exchanged a look with Bobby and reached out to rescue the cup that was threatening to topple out of her hands. "Get some sleep, Sara, Bobby'll be here when you wake up," Dean reassured her.

"Just Bobby?" Sara questioned, her eyes open wide once more. It didn't take much to see the naked panic that filled Sara's eyes. Unable to deny her anything, Dean reassured her, "I'm not going anywhere."

888

"Quit frowning, Dean. Doctor says she's gonna be fine," Sam said as he slipped quietly into the room.

Dean allowed Sam's words to ease the tension that gripped him. Sam was right after nearly four days of monitoring, Sara's doctor had finally granted the widow's wish. Tomorrow Sara was being discharged. Dean himself still wasn't sure she was ready.

Though not quite as pale as before, Sara still rivaled the pillow she lay on for whiteness. It didn't help that earlier he had noticed her hands were still shaky. "She's not ready," Dean couldn't help but say as he carefully edged the blanket that lay across her chest slightly higher. He knew he was fussing but he found he couldn't help himself.

The urge to touch her, to have contact with her, however minor had become an almost constant need. He needed the reassurance that she still lived, still breathed, even more when she slept.

Awake, Sara was rarely still. Even when she wasn't actively moving some part of her body was usually in motion. Foot tapping, leg bouncing, or fingers twirling she fidgeted like a little kid. It was only in sleep that she was every really calm. Now, watching her silent and still, he couldn't help but reach out and touch her now and again to reassure himself that she truly was okay.

Sam crossed the room and came to a stop beside him. "She can sleep at home as well, if not better, than she can here. It's time."

"Not with the kids and her family pulling at her. She won't be able to rest. She'll push herself too much," Dean argued.

Sam's shrug spoke volumes. "She won't stay any longer, Dean, you know that. At least at home she'll allow others to help her."

Dean sighed in frustration know his brother was right. Soon there would be no keeping her down. Dean sent a glance toward Sam and conceded. "I know you're right." Leaning back in his chair, he ran a hand across his bearded chin and sighed deeply. "I was thinking maybe we should hang around a bit. You know. Make sure everything's okay before we hit the road."

"Let's talk a walk," Sam suggested as he abruptly turned from the bed and headed for the door.

Unsure of what was up, but fairly certain he wasn't going to like it, Dean followed him out and into the hallway. Once there, Sam turned to face him.

"You're just gonna walk away?" Sam snapped as he turned to challenge his brother.

"Sam," Dean warned now certain he wasn't going to like what was coming.

"Don't, don't Sam me. You know I'm right. If we'd been here this would never have happened."

Unable to deny Sam's words, Dean went on the defensive. "I thought you were the one that said we were bucking fate trying to keep her alive."

Sam shifted in frustration and gestured toward Sara's door. "I also said that we should at least try."

"I can't, Sam, I can't be the reason she..." Dean couldn't find the words. How could he explain to Sam that it was easier to walk away than to face the fact that he might be the one to bring even more danger into her life. Rather than the sympathy Dean expected, Sam reached out and shoved him hard, knocking him off balance.

"That's a copout, and you know it. You're just afraid to stay cause you can't commit."

Suddenly it was too much, the pain of missing Sara, of standing by as Greg, however unsuccessfully, tried to weasel his way into Sara's world. Knowing that somewhere down the line someone would succeed where Greg had failed, then the later agony of carrying her lifeless body out of the woods. It was too damn much for anyone to have to deal with.

Dean lashed out, his fist striking Sam solidly across the jaw.

888

The force of the blow, while not enough to do any real damage, knocked Sam backward into the wall. Startled but heartened by the rise he'd managed to get out of his brother, Sam refused to back down. "Admit it, you'd rather run than stand your ground. I never thought I'd live to see the day when Dean Winchester tucks his tail between his legs and runs."

Sam knew the words were harsh, but he also knew the only way he'd get Dean to admit his feelings was to get him angry.

This time, lucky for Sam, Dean didn't go for the punch. Instead, he grabbed Sam's shirt and shoved him backwards driving him into the concrete wall once more. "I'm no coward and I ain't running to protect myself. I love her and I always will. I'm just not willing to bring death down on her doorstep."

"Boys," a voice barked behind Dean.

Sam turned startled eyes toward the noise and found Bobby plus one of the hospital security guards standing nearby. If Sam had to find a way to describe the guard it would be scared shitless. It was obvious that the small rural hospital rarely saw any kind of commotion. The guard no doubt was hoping that Bobby could rein in his 'nephews'.

Immediately, Dean dropped his hands from Sam's shirt turned to face Bobby and the guard, his shoulder brushing Sam's. Sam took the contact in the spirit it was offered and relaxed his stance also. He knew that Dean would later apologize for losing his temper though, honestly he'd been provoked into it. "Sorry, Bobby," Sam offered hoping that Bobby had heard enough of the argument to understand what had been going on.

Bobby stared hard at the Winchesters for a moment before turning toward the guard. "Just boys being boys is all, I'm sure you understand that."

The veiled threat in Bobby's tone did the trick and the guard took a step back. "Sure, yeah, no problem. If you could just remind your nephews to keep it down a bit, that'll be fine." Without a backward glance, the young guard turned tail and nearly ran back down the hallway.

Bobby watched the younger man's progress then turned toward the Winchesters with a snort. "You two dumbass' done hollerin' down the place yet?"

Sam winced a bit, ready to acknowledge that his choice of venue wasn't very inspired. He hadn't meant to pressure Dean here, but when he'd heard his brother suggest that they would be leaving he'd seen red. With a mumbled apology, Sam started toward Sara's room only to have Bobby growl.

"No you don't, you two are coming with me. I'll not have ya getting her all excited. God knows she probably heard your little love fest as it is."

Grimacing at the reprimand, Dean shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Boy, if I have to grab you by the ear and drag you out of this hospital you're coming with me. I've watched you all dance around this crap for long enough. I got something to say and you ain't gonna like it, but, you will hear me out."

Sam watched as Dean and Bobby matched glare for glare. At last, the younger man backed down, his love for the older man the only thing keeping him from flipping off Bobby and ignoring the order.

As Dean turned and stormed down the corridor towards the exit, Bobby pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the bead of perspiration from his forehead. Sam's mouth flickered in amusement at Bobby's obvious relief.

"You gonna stand their smirking or are you gonna come help me convince your brother how not to be a jackass?" Bobby snapped as he followed Dean.

The smile wiped clear form his face, Sam started down the hallway one hand rubbing his sore jaw.

888

At last, the boys and Bobby tumbled from the hospital into the parking lot. The bright afternoon light, caused Bobby to squint as he turned to face Dean. He was flying blind on this one. His only experience with love had ended with him stabbing the woman of his heart repeatedly with a kitchen knife. Maybe though in the long run, that was just the kind of reminder Dean needed.

"Dean, I'm not gonna bullshit you. What we do is dangerous as hell. What you've forgotten though, is that Sara knows this. She's seen it first hand." Bobby frowned hard at the ground for a moment, struggling to put his thoughts into words. At last, he settled for the honest truth. "You can't protect her. Not if you know what's coming and not if you're ignorant. People die, that's the honest to god's truth and something your daddy forgot long ago. There's no undoing what's been done."

Dean's bright green gaze turned watery as he met Bobby's gaze. Bobby couldn't help but feel his own heart clench in sympathy. As always when faced with John's boys, Bobby found himself wondering what would have been if only his life hadn't ended with the death of his wife.

"Bobby, I can't live with-"

"Do you remember what you told me when I lost Jess, Dean?" Suddenly Sam was by Dean's side, his shoulder just brushing the older Winchester's. "You told me 'no regrets' do you remember? You said to hold onto her memory and to think of the good. That it's what Jess would want."

"Sammy," Dean started, but Sam cut him off.

"Oh, I get it, that was bullshit, you were just trying to make me feel better. Is that it."

"No, damnit, that's not it, but-"

"No, buts, Dean, Sam's right. If anything the decision really belongs to Sara. If she's willing to run the risk, who're you to belittle her choice?" Bobby could see that Dean stood on the verge. Unsure of which way the younger hunter would fall, Bobby hedged his bet, "What if your positions were reversed? What if Sara left you to keep you safe."

Dean rubbed at his eyes, hiding any telltale tears and replied, "Come on, Bobby. I can take care of myself."

"And Sara can't? Seems to me she's a bit more capable than your average soccer mom," Sam snapped making it clear that was deluding himself if he thought Sara incapable.

Bobby happened to agree with the younger Winchester. He'd known Sara longer than the boys had and he was pretty sure that none of them had yet witnessed just what the widow was willing to do to keep her family safe.

"That's not the-"

"It is the point, Dean. You're worried that our lives are too dangerous and that we could bring trouble down on her. Well if we're all in agreement that she's capable of taking care of herself then what's holding you back?"

Dean turned his head to gaze first at Sam then Bobby but said not a word.

At last, sick of waiting Bobby asked, "What?"

"Well, it's just the two of you are doing such a good job convincing yourselves I figured I'd just let you finish."

Bobby snorted, "Smart ass," under his breath before turning to Sam. The younger man rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to say something. This time it was Dean that cut him off.

"You know this is all fine and well, but, let's face it. If Sara was lying in the morgue right now instead of a hospital bed you'd be singing a different song."

Sam looked down to study his dusty boots and Bobby shifted to examine the parking lot. At last, the older man looked back to Dean and answered truthfully. "Probably, but regrets're part of life. Nobody gets through life without having 'em."

Dean nodded at Bobby's words and turned to face his brother. The stark pain that lined the elder Winchester's face tugged at Bobby's heart.

"I'm gonna take off for a bit." Dean said holding out his hands for the Impala's keys. "Let Sara know I'll be back."

Sam nodded and handed off the keys, his features already seeming resigned to Dean's decision. Bobby on the other hand retained hope. Dean had spent a lifetime watching his father deal with his regrets. Bobby held onto the idea that Dean had learned a thing or two about letting go what you cannot change. It was a lesson that John had never learned.

Standing shoulder to shoulder with Sam as they watched Dean cross the lot, Bobby was again reminded of just how lucky he was to have the boys in his life. Ever since John had wandered into his life, Dean and a baby Sam by his side, the Winchester boys had been like family. Bobby only hoped that this time he wouldn't be forced to watch Dean turn away from the one thing that would truly make him happy.

888

"Hey there, big guy," Dean whispered as he eased into the tiny room. He was unsurprised to see that Jack was caged. The veterinary technician that had given Dean the update on Jack's condition had made it clear that the dog hadn't been on his best behavior. The menacing growl that came from the metal cage only confirmed the woman's words.

Approaching the box that was little bigger than the dog inside, Dean turned to the woman that had slipped in behind him. "Give me a few moments here."

"Mr. Powers, like I told your brother, the dog's likely to lash out. He's in a lot of pain and the drugs make him feel confused. It's not safe for you to open the cage."

Dean ignored the woman, dropped to one knee before the metal cage and stared in at the battered animal. "Ah, damn, Jack." The dog lay slumped on the ground, barely able to lift his muzzled head, he was making a sound that was half growl, and half whine. There was a bare patch on his foreleg where the hair had been shaved and an IV needle was inserted in his skin. Even from outside the cage, Dean could see several bald patches where wounds had been stitched. He looked like a patchwork quilt gone awry.

"There really isn't anything you can do for right now. He's been given a transfusion and we've been pumping him with fluids. We've got him on antibiotics and a morphine mixture to manage the pain and keep him still. It's just a waiting game now, but we're fairly certain he's going to pull through."

Without thought, Dean reached out and eased back the latch that held the cage shut. He had no fear of Jack, drugged or not the dog would never turn on him. "Why the muzzle?" Dean asked his heartbreaking over the nylon strap that secured Jack's jaws all but closed.

"He's snapped at two of our techs and bit another so far, you can't trust him right now."

Dean ignored the woman and eased into the cage. It wasn't all that hard seeing as Jack was nearly as large as a grown man. Speaking in low tones Dean waited for Jack to recognize his voice. He had little doubt that the dog had done his best to piss off the people trying to care for him, he was nothing if not Sara's dog. Dean was also sure that the dog had lashed out simply out of fear. Without acknowledging the woman that hovered behind him Dean said, "I'm going to be in here for a bit."

Apparently, the woman could take a hint, with no farther warnings she turned and left, leaving Dean and Sara's beloved pet alone. A burning anger began to build in Dean as he looked over Jack. He was suddenly thankful that the woman had left, otherwise he would have needed to take her down a peg or two for the disgraceful state that Jack was in.

As he got comfortable on the hard metal bottom of the cage, he noted that Jack was barely able to lift his head. It was obvious that whatever the vet had him on was working.

The dog continued to growl even as Dean settled in beside him. At first, he feared that the blood loss had been too extensive and Jack had suffered injuries far more serious than the cuts and bruises that littered his body. His fear, however, proved groundless when Jack, at last, gave a weary sigh and laid his head on Dean's jean clad leg.

Dean didn't bother to wipe away the tears that crept down his cheeks as he stroked Jack's large square head. The normally bright white blaze that made its way down his solid forehead was stained with blood and grime. His eyes were caked with dirt and the lower lids drooped more than normal giving testament to just how out of it he was.

"They're giving you the good stuff, huh?" Dean questioned as he carefully worked the buckle that held the muzzle off. Wincing in sympathy at the straps that held the dog's mouth firmly closed, Dean gently eased the contraption off.

As expected, when freed of the nylon strap Jack began to rub his face back and forth over Dean's jeans obviously trying to scratch an itch that had been out of his reach for god only knows how long. Memories of being stuck in a foot cast over a long hot summer had Dean scratching at the offending itch, trying to ease the dog's discomfort. Jack's low groan of appreciation was more telling than anything else that the dog would recover despite all that had happened.

If they had been any farther from the medical treatment, if they had been dealing with a country vet versus an emergency care center for animals, if Sam hadn't made it clear that everything and anything possible was to be done, then there would have been little chance of Jack surviving.

As it was it had been touch and go for a while, just how close it had come only Sam knew. However, from what Dean could tell, Jack was expected to make a full recovery. The only question that remained was whether he would retain the use of his hind leg.

The vet had been vague on that point, insisting that getting Jack healthy again took precedence over worrying about his mobility. The Anchanchu had taken a chunk out of Jack's hind leg damaging the muscle, the extent of the injury still wasn't clear.

Dean sat there, Jack's giant head lying in his lap and began to talk to the dog. At first it was just ramblings, apologies for allowing the dog to go first into the trouble, for allowing Jack to act as a tracker. Before long, Dean was running his hands up and down Jack's sleek head. As the dog began to make happy little growling sounds, Dean found himself thinking through everything that Sam and Bobby had said to him earlier.

He wanted to reassure himself that they were wrong. That in his case Sara would be better off without him in her life. Problem was, Sam was right if it were his little brother standing in his position he'd be encouraging the kid to try and make it work. Why was it he wasn't able to follow his own advice?

He often wondered if it was because he'd seen first hand what his mother's death had done to his dad. Sam had grown up with no memory of the real John Winchester. He'd only ever known the militant, cold, angry version of their father. He'd never seen the way John's whole face would light up when Mary walked into the room. How had John teased and laughed with her, the way the house was always full of music and magic. Dean still remembered.

It was the way he felt when he was with Sara and it scared him to death. How could he continue if something did happen to her. "I love her too much, man," Dean whispered to the dog that was now soundly asleep in his lap. Jack's only reply was a rough snort. Unable to face putting the muzzle back on the big guy, Dean leaned his head back and shut his eyes. As he drifted off, memories of Sara and her kids drifted through his mind making him yearn to be a part of their lives once more.

Chapter End Notes:

Okay so, you still with me?? Hope so, I'll get my update posted just as soon as I can. Thanks as always for reading - Kel


	17. Chapter 17

Author's Chapter Notes:

Okay guys hope this gets it done for you ;)

"Just go pick her up, Dean. Bobby and I can handle Greg," Sam assured his brother.

"What're you gonna do? I mean we can't have the cops crawling all over Sara and if he just up and disappears..."

Sam and Bobby exchanged a long glance, they'd both agreed that no matter what, Sara's name would stay out of the whole fiasco. Now if only they could figure out how.

"Go, Dean. Bring her home, by the time you get back, Greg'll be gone," Bobby's gruff voice gave weight to his words.

At last, a bit of the tension that had gripped Dean for the last day seemed to ease. Sam had never seen his brother so wound up, if he had to hazard a guess he'd bet that Dean was scared to face Sara one on one now that she was feeling somewhat better. With a nod, Dean agreed at last, "Yeah, I'm going, just call if you-"

"Need anything," Sam and Bobby replied in unison.

"Jeez, kid, you act as if this is my first body. Now, go, get yourself gone," Bobby snapped, ushering Dean toward the garage.

It was only after they heard the door shut that Bobby turned to face Sam. "This is gonna be a bitch," the grizzled hunter said as he ran a hand across his bearded chin. "Everyone in town knows that Sara was dating him."

This time it was Sam that snapped, "She wasn't dating him. He just came here a lot," Sam finished lamely.

"Oh, excuse friggin' me," Bobby growled as he headed for the french doors.

Sam stared after his long-time friend with a half-grin. Leave it to Bobby to make him feel like an ass. The older man excelled at putting Sam and his brother in their places. Sometimes Sam got the feeling that the older hunter still thought of him and Dean as kids, just tagging along at his side.

"You planning on coming anytime today, or should we just wait until the corpse is ripe enough to draw the neighbors," came Bobby's yell from outside.

With a start, Sam hurried out the door and quickly caught up to the older man. "So, we're okay with Brian, we can have Sara report him missing."

Bobby nodded as he approached the shed where Greg had been killed. "Yeah, no one will think anything of it if you call the cops and report that he hasn't been answering his cell. Before you know it they'll send an officer to the shop."

Sam nodded as he produced the key to the lock on the door. In moments, he was pushing it open and ushering Bobby through.

"Should be fine, unless you two nitwits left evidence that you were there," Bobby said as he slipped past Sam and into the dark interior.

As Sam walked into the dim light of the shed, Bobby was there waiting for him to lead the way. Without hesitation, Sam headed for the far corner of the room. He was halfway there when he realized something was missing. "Do you smell something?" he questioned Bobby.

Bobby sniffed and then replied, "Not a thing."

Sam nodded in agreement, "I know, but Greg's been dead for over a week now. Shouldn't we smell something?" as he pointed toward where Greg's body had once rested.

With a grunt of agreement, Bobby glanced toward the spot that Sam indicated and let loose a low curse. There in a perfect ring, was a circle of mushrooms.

The body was gone, and other than that perfect ring, there was nothing to indicate it had ever laid there. "Shit," Sam said as he scanned the rest of the room looking for some sign of what had happened.

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Bobby poured himself yet another coffee as he paced the confines of Sara's kitchen. "Damnit, Sam, you find anything yet?" he called as he gulped down the steaming brew.

"Here. You were right" Sam said as he tossed a sheaf of papers onto the table and headed straight toward the coffee pot. With a grimace, the younger hunter stared at the sludge in the pot for a moment before pouring himself a cup. "It all makes perfect sense now. It's why Greg checked out when Sara looked into his background. This thing was just using him to get to her, the poor bastard had nothing to do with it."

"You got through to Greg?" Bobby asked as he sipped his coffee.

"Yeah, he's fine and dandy. Seemed a little confused as to why I'd be calling him, but he's fine. He mentioned that he'd be stopping by as soon as things quieted down at work."

"Well, maybe that'll give your brother a well-deserved kick in the ass," Bobby replied as he pushed around the papers Sam had found in Sara's office. "The kid did a thorough job didn't she?"

Sam nodded and pointed toward the paper. "Better believe it, she pulled tax information, questioned past employees, hell, I found one letter from some guy Greg knew in college."

Bobby quirked an eyebrow and said, "Kinda makes you wonder what she found on all of us."

Sam let loose a snort and leaned back against the counter top. "Yeah, I can imagine. Anyway the point is, we didn't find Greg in that shed. It was all just a set up by the fairy. A glamour created to make us think Greg was dead. Damn thing expected us to go running to her with what we found. It would have weakened her even farther and she probably wouldn't have been able to hold it off for as long as she did."

"Instead, you boys kept it to yourself. Must have pissed the damn thing off to all hell and back," Bobby said gruffly as he again bent to study the paperwork. "Are these his dental records?"

With a choked laugh, Sam nodded. "Yeah, god knows she probably had him bite something and then compared the marks."

Bobby eased into a chair and leaned back, as he tipped his hat back he couldn't help but share a grin with Sam. "Guess next time she assures us she 'checked up' on someone we ought to believe her."

"Yeah, well I'm taking credit cause I taught her everything she knows about research," Sam said smugly.

"Is that right, Mr. Smarty-pants? Well then, maybe next time you're dealing with a fairy you'll remember that they can affect their surroundings, create glamours, that kinda thing." Satisfied to see a blush ting Sam's cheeks, Bobby relented, "You boys did good. You saved her before the Anchanchu could inhabit her body and you saved the big guy."

"Yeah, well I just wish we would have figured it out sooner."

Bobby stood and walked to the sink. Carefully he rinsed out the mug he was holding and set it to the side of the sink. With a sad smile the older hunter turned to Sam and said, "That's always the way, kid. Come on, let me buy you breakfast. Sara and Dean'll be here soon and I'm thinking we'd do well to clear out for a bit."

"Sounds good to me, I don't think Sara's gonna be much of a model patient," Sam said as he ducked past Bobby, already heading for the garage.

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Sara sat by the window, the early morning light shut out by the industrial blinds that covered the glass. Six days she'd been cooped up in this room, for four of them she'd been largely unconscious. However, it had taken only two days awake for her to become sick to death of the dingy grey walls of the sparse room.

Then finally, late last night she'd managed to corner her doctor without a Winchester or Bobby present and she'd browbeaten the man into releasing her. When Dean had finally returned, he'd stomped and huffed and declared her unfit to go, but she'd remained firm. She needed to get home and she needed to go now.

The longer she stayed cooped up in the hospital the harder it became to distance herself from the elder Winchester. Distance from Dean was something she would have never thought she'd need, however, six days of his hovering, his unthinking touches as he caressed a wayward hair from her cheek or smoothed her hand in comfort was quickly undoing her.

The way she was headed now, she was liable to throw herself at his feet begging and pleading him to stay when he finally declared her fit enough for him to leave. It wouldn't do for him to feel guilty over going.. He'd done enough for her already and she wouldn't willingly be beholden to him anymore.

If it hadn't been for him and Sam she would have lost not only her life, which at the moment held little appeal anyway, but also the lives of her children, as the fairy creature would have surely gone for them next. Her life might be forfeit anyway, but the lives of her children? Those she would have walked through the fires of hell for.

So here she sat, fully dressed in the sweatpants and t-shirt that Sam had dropped off last night, waiting. Waiting to see just who it would be that came through the door to take her home at last. Though Dean had finally, with bad grace and a lot of cursing, agreed to pick her up, Sara still wouldn't allow herself to believe that it would be him. She couldn't come to expect him, to count on him. He'd made it clear over six months ago that while he thought of her and her family fondly, there was little else holding him here.

Sara would be damned before she'd allow him to see her pining away for him. He'd seen too much already, she needed to shore up her defenses and to keep her focus on her family. Her family was now her only reason for living. It would be enough she would make it enough.

The soft sound of the door opening had Sara turning away from the window. With her very last hope dashed, she spied Dean easing his way into the room. It was evident in his body language that he hoped for one last-ditch effort into talking her into staying. Sara shifted slightly, biting back a groan as her abused back came in contact with the chair, and firmly grasped the handles of the wheel chair she sat in.

Giving him no chance to speak she turned the chair and aimed it toward the door he'd left open. Freedom lay just outside the hallway, so Sara made a break for it. The chair though heavier than she'd expected rolled right toward the door. Certain that she would make it, Sara pushed faster, her back screaming in pain from the workout.

She'd just nosed her way into the corridor when there was a jerk and she was brought to a sudden and complete halt. With a low curse, Sara, gave one last half-hearted push of the handgrips. Unsurprisingly she budged not an inch. "Let me go, Dean. I can manage to get myself to the elevator," Sara snapped going on the defensive.

Dean gave a low growl and jerked the chair slightly backward. "What you'll do is sit right here until I talk to the nurse."

She was trapped she knew it. Half-tempted to try standing up and walking out, Sara acknowledged that she didn't have the strength to make it more than a foot or two away without collapsing. Unless... "Nurse Kulp's at the station. Ask away, I'll wait right here."

Dean stepped away, his destination clearly the nurse's station and Sara lunged forward, putting as much force behind the roll as possible. She didn't move an inch.

"Just how dumb do you think I am," Dean snapped as he shook the chair lightly showing Sara that he'd never actually let go. "I think I'll just signal her from her."

Well and truly caught, Sara slumped as low in her chair as she was able, and began plotting all the ways she would get even with the younger hunter. His low chuckle in the face of her ire did nothing but piss her off even more.

"Buck up, darlin, I said I'd take you home and I will. I just wanna make sure you're good to go," Dean said as he caught the nurse's attention.

Childish or not Sara refused to answer. Instead, she latched onto the idea that freedom lay at home. There he'd be forced to keep his distance. Surrounded by the noise of her kids and family she'd be able to hide her emotions better.

It wasn't going to be easy. If anything these last few days she'd fallen even more in love with the handsome, green eyed hunter. How could she not when every time she had awoken in pain, confusion marring her thoughts, he'd been there. With a soft touch, encouraging words and his solid presence, he'd spent more time by her side than anyone else. How could she shore up her defenses when all she really wanted was to melt in his arms?

"Nurse Kulp said you forgot these," Dean said as he interrupted Sara's musings.

Even before she glanced over her shoulder, Sara knew what she would see. There stood Dean with a huge floral arrangement. Truth be told, she had purposely tried to leave the flowers behind. Full of somber colored blooms and a dark winding ribbon, the arrangement was obviously more suitable for a funeral than a get-well bouquet.

Both arms wrapped around the behemoth arrangement, his eyes sparkling with mirth and a lazy grin spread across his face, Dean asked, "Didn't Judy get the word that you'd survived?"

Unable to help herself, Sara burst out in laughter for what felt like the first time in forever.

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A bolt of heat shot through Dean at the sight of Sara turning breathless from laughter.

"I guess she was hoping I'd take a turn for the worse," Sara gasped, her face alight with humor.

Dean found himself suddenly at a loss for words. So much of their relationship had been spent laughing. How often had they laid in bed, spent from making love, holding each other close while laughing at the day's events?

Sara was a woman meant to laugh. The tiny lines at the corner of her eyes, the ones she so often derided when complaining of her age, were a testament of her joy. They were proof of just how much of her life was spent smiling despite what fate had thrown at her. Few could resist the lure of Sara at her most relaxed, and laughing, she had the ability to light up a room with her sparkling eyes and wide grin.

Dean couldn't help but smile even more when he glanced down at the flowers in his arms. Well, he amended to himself, most people couldn't resist. Sara's mother-in-law, obviously had no such problem.

At Sara's sudden silence Dean glanced back to see her gaze pinned firmly on him as she leaned slightly toward him. Her cheeks were flushed with color and her eyes seemed to have grown huge. Dean felt every muscle in his body tense at the heat he could read in her gaze.

As her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, he found himself leaning forward, flowers forgotten, hospital forgotten, hell, he was fairly certain he no longer knew his own name. Then her lips parted as if she wanted to say something and he had the sudden notion that whatever she said next would make him abandon his noble ideas forever. Instead of leaving her, he would pull her into his arms and stay lost forever, his life as a hunter forgotten.

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Sara wanted to blame the dizziness she was experiencing on her lack of breath. After all, this was the first true laugh she'd had in longer than she cared to admit. However, she was fairly certain it had more to do with the full fledged smile he was sending her than any physical reason. Sometimes she really wondered what god was thinking when he had made Dean. Every inch of the man, from the way his eyes crinkled to the soft line of his lips, was made to steal the breath from a woman.

Watching as the heat built in his gaze, as his stare became half-lidded and sexy as hell, Sara found herself suddenly ready to fling aside every last bit of pride she had and to beg, no, plead that he stay with her forever. He was everything she'd ever and would ever want and as she watched she became certain that if only she had the right words she could hold tight to him forever.

As her fears battled her wants, fear finally won out, causing her to pull back, to blink away the moment. With a voice more husky than she would have wished, Sara said, "Alright, Winchester, let's get me the hell out of here. You can dump those things in the nearest trash bin."

Sara saw the moment reality slapped Dean back down, and the pain on his features made her certain she'd done the right thing. The hunter didn't want to be encumbered by her and her family. He needed to be free, anything else would never work for him.

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"I can make it up the stairs myself," Sara grumbled as Dean swung her up and out of the car.

"No way are you gonna risk falling. I'm carrying you up and that's final," Dean snapped, a rampant case of frustration making his words sound harsher then he had intended.

Sara let out a squeal as he swung her out of the Impala and into his arms faster than she'd expected. He clenched his teeth as Sara's body made contact with his own.

"Put me down," Sara said her voice full of desperation. Dean held back his grin, hoping that the widow was feeling every bit as unsatisfied as he was. It served her right, he thought, after all, she was the one that refused to admit she wanted him. She's the one that had shut down back at the hospital. If it were left up to him, he would be sweeping her up the stairs right now to make thorough love to her not to tuck her into bed and leave her.

Convinced that it would most likely be the last time he ever held her, Dean tightened his grip despite his discomfort and held on for all he was worth. If this was the last contact he'd ever have with her, he was sure as hell going to get his money's worth. Breathing deeply as he walked down the sidewalk toward the front door, he couldn't help but relish the unique scent that was all Sara.

"Stop sniffing me," she ground out through clenched teeth as she shifted in his arms.

Flashing the widow a toothy grin, Dean growled in her ear, "You're doin' an awful lot of squirming you got an itch somewhere."

For one moment, Dean thought he'd killed her. One minute she was stiff in his arms, trying to fight the hold he had and the next she seemed to turn boneless. Her breath wafted out on a sigh and her eyes half-closed.

This time, despite what his body was crying out for, it was Dean that came to his senses. One last romp with Sara wasn't going to slake his thirst for her. In fact, from previous experience he was certain it would only make his need worse. He had made a decision based on what was best for her. Loving her, then leaving her would only hurt her more in the long run.

In need of a distraction, Dean began moving again and said, "The kids are still at your parents, they're gonna stay there one more night."

At the mention of her children, Sara blushed and grew stiff once more. Feeling the steel slip back down Sara's spine, Dean knew he'd struck the right chord. Mentioning her kids was the equivalent of throwing a bucket of water over her.

"That's fine, where're Sam and Bobby?"

This time Dean's unease had nothing to do with his quickly cooling ardor. "They're taking care of a few things. They'll be home soon." As he stepped up to the front door, he juggled Sara just a bit in order to open the door one handed. At the entrance, he moved toward stairs, hoping against hope that Sara would let the subject drop.

He had no urge to explain to Sara that Sam and Bobby were trying to figure out how the hell to clean up the mess the Anchanchu had left behind. Dean still wasn't sure just how much Sara knew in regard to Greg and Brian and he had no interest in hitting her with the details just now.

"Not upstairs, I need to see Jack," Sara said, struggling once more.

"He's probably asleep, Sara, why don't you get some rest and-"

"No, now, I mean it, Dean. I need to see him now."

Despite the fact that Sara was most likely already exhausted, Dean knew that he'd never keep her in bed if he didn't give in. Better to allow her to spend some time fawning over her dog, then to spend the rest of the day thwarting her escape attempts. He only hoped the shock of just how badly Jack was hurt wasn't too bad. Ever since waking up she'd demanded daily updates on Jack's condition, how her children were fairing, and the state of her house.

As Dean carried her through the living room, heading for his and Sam's bedroom where he'd installed Jack just yesterday he was happy to see that this part of the house at least was back to normal. Or, as normal as it could be seeing as every window had needed replacing.

In the six days since the Anchanchu had been destroyed, Sara's father had hired a slew of workman to get the place cleaned up and back to normal. Though all the glass had been disposed of there were still windows that were waiting to be replaced. All non-necessary windows, the ones in the garage, the office, the basement, and the attic, were still boarded up with sheets of plywood.

"The place looks okay," Sara whispered.

There was little doubt in Dean's mind that she'd been fearing the worse. "There're still a few windows to be replaced, but all in all the house is back to normal."

"And Jack," Sara asked, her voice catching on the dog's name.

Dean shouldered open the door to his bedroom, his gaze drifting toward the blanket he'd put down for Jack to rest on. Sound asleep, the dog remained so even when they entered the room. Dean carefully eased Sara to stand just in front of the animal.

Though she would deny it, Dean knew that Sara had little strength left. Not wanting to start another in an endless line of arguments, he simply kept hold of her arm and helped her to the floor.

He wasn't sure if her gasp signaled pain from the movement or if it was out of pity for Jack, but Dean was taking no chances. He folded himself to the floor behind Sara and eased up behind her. As she leaned back into his chest with a heartbreaking sigh he found himself glad he had.

With one shaking hand, she reached out and carefully stroked Jack's soft, silky ear. "God, he looks so..."

"Beaten. Yeah, I know," Dean supplied. "But, he's staying awake more and more and the doctor feels that he should be able to use his leg again. He's going to be fine, Sara, he just needs time."

Sara reached out with her other hand and began petting the dog in earnest, speaking softly to him she cajoled him out of sleep. "Hey, there, baby. Ah, my brave, brave, boy."

As he watched the tears roll down Sara's cheek, Dean found himself gathering her more tightly against his chest. He knew that he couldn't undo what had been done to either Sara or Jack, all he could do is be thankful that they'd both survived.

Jack, responding to Sara's voice, opened his eyes and gave a low whine. Dean and Sam had taken the time to brush out what was left of his fur and to clean him up as best they could but the poor dog still looked like road kill.

"God, Dean, look at him," Sara whimpered as she bent down to lay a kiss on his forehead.

"He's going to be okay, Sara, and he did good. He's the one that led us to you. Without him..." Dean found he couldn't continue as he reached past Sara's arm and added his own touch to the dog's broad head. Jack, content with the caresses, closed his eyes and relaxed once more.

Sara shifted slightly sideways, settling herself more tightly against Dean. In response, he tightened his arms and gently laid his head atop hers. For the longest time they exchanged not a word, each content to draw comfort from the other.

At last, Sara broke the silence. "It killed Brian," she said her voice filled with grief for the friend she'd lost. "God, Dean, it killed him because of me. He was my friend, him and Jason..." Sara's voice trailed off as shuddering sobs began to tear through her.

Unsure of what he could say that would ease her pain, Dean just held her close and let her grieve for the friend she'd lost.

At last, her sobs trailed off and he eased a well-worn bandana out of his pocket. Handing it to her, he couldn't help but say, "He loved you, Sara, and he knew how much you loved him don't ever doubt that."

Sara hearing the conviction in his voice pulled back a bit to stare up at him. Suddenly uncomfortable with her scrutiny, Dean began to pull back.

"You talked to him," Sara hissed as she pulled even farther out of his arms.

Suddenly sensing the quicksand on which he trod, Dean tried to deflect Sara's anger. "Let's get you on upstairs. Jack needs his rest."

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me the truth," Sara spat, her voice rising in volume. "Did...you...talk...to...him? Sara enunciated each word as if she were speaking to someone hard of hearing.

Well and truly caught, Dean went on the offensive. "So what if I did. We were friends. What? Just because we weren't together I wasn't allowed to speak to him?"

"Friends? You weren't friends. He employed you on occasion. You were checking up on me!"

This time even Jack wasn't able to ignore the absolute fury in his mistress' voice. With a low growl the dog opened one eye and looked toward Dean as if warning the hunter that he wasn't quite so out of the game.

Dean slid back, well out of reach of Sara's quick fists, and stood. Hands on his hips he did his best to defend himself. "I never spoke to him I swear, Sara. But if I did check up on you, who the hell could blame me? I mean look at what happens when you're left to yourself," Dean snapped as he gestured to her bruised and battered state..

Sara scrambled to her knees and ignoring Dean's outstretched hand she gained her feet. For a moment she wobbled so badly that Dean felt sure she was going down. Just as he reached out to grab her she steadied herself. "At least I wasn't shot by my own possessed brother." At Dean's surprised look, Sara continued, "Yeah, he told me. You let yourself get shot, and you say I can't take care of myself."

The fear in Sara's eyes and her tone let Dean know just how upset she was. There was little he could say to re-assure her, his job was a dangerous one and Sara of all people had first hand knowledge of that. Nothing would be served by going into the details of the past months, instead, he focused on calming her down. "Sara I swear, I wasn't checking up on you. He left me one voice mail just after I left telling me to-" Realizing what he'd been about to say, Dean suddenly snapped his jaw shut.

She crossed her arms and stared up at him. "Go on. Brian left you a message telling you to what? No more secrets, Dean."

"Secrets?" Dean shouted, his temper once more leaping out of control. "It's not as if you don't have a few of your own."

"If you're referring to Sam and the car, that wasn't my secret to tell," Sara sputtered, eyes sparkling with anger.

"Sam? The car? What the hell are you talking about?" Dean questioned, completely lost.

The change that overcame Sara was instantaneous. Her stance became even more tense and she backed up a step or two. No longer yelling she asked, "What secret are you talking about?"

"What secret are you talking about?" Dean questioned, his gaze pinning Sara where she stood.

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For a moment, 'shit' was the only thought running through Sara's mind. She honestly couldn't think of any secret other than the one where Sam had told her he'd slashed the Impala's tires. Obviously, by the way that Dean was now staring at her he was still in the dark about that little fact.

As he loomed toward her, his face dark with anger, Sara couldn't help but back up a step. She needed an out and she needed one quickly. She knew Dean well enough to know that he wouldn't give up until he'd gotten a full confession from her. She owed it to Sam to at least try to fix what she'd done.

Deciding that now was probably a good time to act the invalid, Sara simply gave into her body's demands and dropped. Half convinced that she was going to hit the floor, she couldn't help but wince as she went down. Without fail, his arms wrapped tight around her stopping her fall before it had really even started.

"Sara," he cried as he swung her up and into his arms.

Keeping her eyes closed tight Sara didn't answer. She had wanted a distraction, not more lecturing.

"I know you can hear me," Dean snapped as he started from the room, "and since you're a captive audience at the moment," Dean swung her lightly to prove his point, "I'm going to take advantage of you."

Suddenly unsure of just what he meant Sara's opened her eyes to meet his laughing green gaze. "Dean," she warned, not appreciating his manipulation.

"Oh, keep your socks on," he said with a laugh as he made his way up the stairs, barely even seeming to notice her extra weight. "I meant that I want to talk to you about Gordon."

This time Sara was the one that was shocked. "Gordon? What about him, he's dead and done."

Dean nodded as he shoved open Sara's bedroom door with his boot. Sara couldn't help but swallow hard as she glanced from Dean to the bed. She'd never noticed before just how much that one piece of furniture seemed to dominate the room. Swallowing hard, she forced her thoughts back to the conversation at hand.

"You were the one that killed him," the green-eyed hunter growled as he lowered her gently onto her side of the bed.

Sensing his suddenly somber mood, Sara sighed and did her best to answer honestly. "Yeah, I was. He was a bastard, he threatened my family and he was doing his dead-level best to kill you, so, I shot him. You make it seem as if what I did was wrong."

"It's not that it was wrong," Dean said thrusting his hand through his hair as he lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed. "It's just that...you shouldn't have had to. I should have been the one to do it, or, better yet, I should never have brought him down on you in the first place."

Sara's heart ached with sadness at the guilty look on Dean's expression. Anxious to ease his pain, she sat up as carefully as she could and crawled toward him. "No, Dean, it's not for you to protect me," with these words, she reached his side.

Allowing herself no chance to doubt, she crawled right up and onto his lap. As she'd hoped his arms closed tight around her and he sighed deeply.

"God, you don't know how much I've missed you," he breathed as he nuzzled her ear.

At that moment, Sara could feel exactly how much he'd missed her, with a husky laugh she admitted as much, "Well, I'm starting to get the idea." Dean's low chuckle rumbled through his chest making her ache even more.

Determined not to hold back, to leave all her regrets behind, Sara confessed, "I killed Gordon. The same way I'd kill anything or anyone that tried to hurt you. I love you, you're a part of me now and nothing, not even distance is gonna change that. For better or worse Dean Winchester, I'm yours."

"Please, Sara, I..." Dean paused clearly at a loss.

Sara felt as if her world had suddenly come to a jarring halt. No matter how often she'd prepared herself for this moment, the pain was still second to none she'd ever felt. He didn't want her, at least, she clarified, not like she wanted him. Doing her best to maintain her composure, Sara scrambled off Dean's lap and stood.

At that moment, she just needed to be alone. Alone to lick her wounds, alone to imagine what might have been. She was halfway across the room, when something wrapped tight around her wrist and tugged her backward. Instead of hitting the floor as expected, she fell back against Dean's chest, his arms iron bands that wrapped around her.

For a moment, he just held on, his chin resting on her head, her back against his chest. At long last, just when she was afraid she couldn't hold herself together for another instant he spoke, "You need to let me finish." Dean pulled back just a bit as his lips brushed against Sara's neck, just below her ear.

Sara couldn't hide the shudder that ripped through her at the touch. At the feel of a second kiss, she found she no longer cared. "Dean," she breathed as his arms tightened just a fraction.

"Listen to me, Sara." Again, Dean's words were followed up with a kiss, this one placed just under her jaw line. "I love you and I have since the moment I stumbled into your house. These last six months have been killing me slowly and now, here in your arms, I just don't think I have the strength to leave you again."

"Then don't," Sara said on a sigh as she turned to face him. Dropping the lightest of kisses at the corner of his mouth she confessed, "I'm nothing when you're not here."

"God, that's the problem isn't it?" Dean said as he cradled her face in his work-roughened hands. "Without each other, there's no point to anything."

"There's really not, is there? I mean I've spent the last six months pretending to be someone I wasn't," Sara said as she reached up and cupped his face, "It was like a huge chunk of who I am was suddenly missing. You took a part of me with you when you left," she accused.

"Well," Dean said as leaned into her touch, "that's only fair since I left a piece of me behind."

So afraid that he would blink and she'd be gone, Dean gently lowered his head until his lips brushed against Sara's. With the lightest of touches, he kissed her and then pulled back. Sara's eyes blinked open as she stared up at him. For just a moment he wondered if he really was dreaming, if in the next minute the feel of her body beneath his hands would become his pillow and he'd wake up alone in some nameless motel.

Then instead of disappearing, she pulled his head down and kissed him. At first, her lips just barely brushed against his, then with a moan she edged closer still. Heat enveloped Dean as she rubbed her lips harder against his, but it was the feel of her tongue that was truly his undoing.

Deprived of her touch for so long, Dean simply couldn't go slow. Without ever breaking the kiss, he swept her into his arms and moved toward the bed. No longer able to think clearly, Dean went solely on instinct. With a heartfelt groan, he carefully placed Sara on the big bed and eased himself down on top of her.

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Sara wasn't sure at what point her 'just let him go' plan had become her 'hold on tight' plan but at the first touch of his lips to hers she was certain she was doing the right thing. Dean was hers, he had been since the moment she'd met him and no longer would she deny what she wanted. With that in mind, Sara pressed herself against him, her lips brushing his with all the feeling she could manage.

The shock went straight to her toes, leaving her lightheaded and in danger of passing out cold. Dean, god bless him, had everything under control. Before she could embarrass herself by hitting the floor, he'd gathered her into his arms and had laid her on the bed.

Much to Sara's relief Dean followed her down until he lay half on top of her, his boot clad feet brushing against her bare toes. With a lazy grin, Dean leaned forward until his mouth hovered just above hers. Sara couldn't help but moan with anticipation as his mouth at last closed over hers.

As her hands slipped upward to encircle his neck, she teased her fingers through his short sandy colored hair. At her touch, he deepened the kiss, driving her mad with need. "Dean," she gasped at last when he broke contact.

Chest heaving, he stared down at her with heavy lidded eyes, the corner of his mouth tilted up in the start of a smile. "You're killing me," he groaned as he dropped his forehead to hers.

"Right back atcha, babe," Sara replied as she began to work the buttons on the blue plaid flannel shirt he wore. Once she'd uncovered a bit of skin, she darted forward, her teeth just barely nipping his collar bone.

This time, Dean's moan echoed through the room as he clenched her tightly to his chest and rolled onto his back, bringing Sara with him. He stopped only when she lay sprawled across his chest, her bare feet brushing against his jeans. Dean stared hard, his green eyes, pinning Sara where she lay. "I never stopped loving you. I just wanted to keep you safe."

At his words, tears flooded Sara's eyes. So many times during the past six months she'd convinced herself that he had never loved her. That he was simply a love 'em and leave 'em kinda of guy. Now, though, with his words ringing in her ears, she couldn't help but read the truth. As her tears made tracks down her chin to fall on his chest, Sara leaned up and kissed him firmly. "I have always loved you, and I will always love you."

Promises made, Sara, couldn't stop her burst of laughter as Dean rolled with a growl once more, putting her back to the mattress again.

Chapter End Notes:

Alright then, this is it guys just one more chapter left. I think I've managed to cover all my bases except for one tiny little confession that our Sammy still needs to make ;) Thanks as always for the support and I hope you've enjoyed - Kel


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter

Chapter.

Sara awoke suddenly, confusion swamping her senses as she spied the bright sunlight pouring into the room. Her room, she thought as she squinted toward her nightstand where her glasses rested. Even after she slipped on the dark frames and the room came into focus, she still couldn't seem to shake the feeling that something was off.

It didn't help that she was in bed in what was obviously the middle of the day, a glance at the clock confirmed it was three in the afternoon. Adding to her uncertainty was the fact that she seemed to be naked and her foot had just brushed up a decidedly male leg. For a moment, just one tiny little moment, Sara held herself completely still as she fought down the urge to scream.

Luckily, the shot of adrenaline that raced through her also blew away the sleep induced fog that had been muddling up her thoughts. "Dean," she breathed as she rolled over, her eyes raking in every inch of the still sleeping hunter.

At the sight of the younger man, asleep on his stomach, one hand tucked under a pillow, Sara blinked back her tears, willing herself not to cry. She had shed enough tears over the last six months to last a lifetime. From here on out she was determined to enjoy the moment, rather than worry about what had come before. Dean was here, for the moment, for the day or for the next week, he was here. It would be enough.

The urge to stare was one she didn't bother to deny. She was always so surprised over how much younger the tough as nails hunter looked when sleeping. His face was as familiar to her, as her own was. The long dark lashes that brushed his cheeks, the smattering of freckles that dusted his skin, and his full lips all combined, left her breathless more often than not.

Tired beyond belief, but certain she would be unable to sleep again, Sara decided to get up. Though the stitches in her back pulled, she was fairly certain that her earlier activities with Dean hadn't done any harm. He'd been extremely inventive when it came to making sure she didn't tear open any of the wounds.

Sara eased back the covers, as she slowly inched her way across the bed. The last thing she wanted was to wake Dean, he'd had a lot less sleep over the last six days than she had. He deserved some pampering and that included sleeping as long as he needed. When he'd first arrived back in town, she'd been concerned with just how worn out and bone tired he and Sammy had looked. Spending the week tied to her hospital bed hadn't helped any.

As she slipped into her robe, Sara took one last longing look at the bed and its occupant before she headed for the hall. She was on the mend, and the Impala was up and running again that meant the Winchesters would be back on the road sooner than later. That gave her only a limited amount of time to spoil them rotten before they were back to meals cooked in microwave's at the nearest mini-mart. Determined to start today, Sara took a deep breath and headed for the kitchen.

888

Dean felt her lack of presence immediately upon awaking. Before panic could take over, sending him streaking through the house in search of her, a cup of coffee sitting on the nightstand caught his eye. He just stared at that cup for the longest time, before he finally reached out and picked it up. It was still warm.

He couldn't count the number of times he'd awoken to find that mug, always the same deep green one, sitting by the bed, tempting him with the smell of coffee. Suddenly, the last little bit of tension that he'd been carrying around seemed to disappear. Things would never be easy between the two of them. Hell, each one of them were too stubborn for it to be all smooth sailing, but, the sight of that cup just seemed to him to be a promise of sorts.

As he relished a sip of the dark, bitter brew he eased his palm over his face, itching at the beard that graced his jaw. He needed a haircut, a shower and a shave, though not necessarily in that order. The haircut he could do little about for the moment, but if memory served him he might just be able to take care of the two other items on his list with little trouble.

Caffeine running hot through his veins, Dean climbed out of bed. With the glass still clutched in his hand, he began stretching trying to ease the muscles that had tightened up on him over night. With his feet planted slightly apart, he held his cup in his right hand and tucked it under his left. With a slight groan he pulled his bent arm toward him, stretching the muscles in his left.

Once he'd stretched and flexed his left arm he moved onto his right, using a bit more caution so he didn't put too much pressure on the stitches in his shoulder. After another hit on the cup he still held in his hand he began to twist, working the muscles in both his back and his abs. Sara often liked to tease about dating a younger man, but on some days Dean couldn't help but feel as if he were old beyond his years.

With a slightly lighter spring in his step, Dean headed for the closet, the second shelf from the ceiling his destination. There as he'd hoped was a duffle he'd left behind ages ago. Not wanting to give the wrong impression, Dean when at the Powers always made sure he was back in his bed in the downstairs room by the time the household stirred. Not wanting to get caught leaving Sara's bedroom in the same clothes he'd worn the night before he'd taken to always keeping a change of clothes and a bag of toiletries in the closet.

Well out of sight of any prying eyes, Dean was thankful to find it still sat there. He had been half-afraid that after their split Sara would have dumped everything out in a fit of anger. He should have known better. Regardless of their personal situation, Sara would never have thrown the gear out just in case it was someday needed.

With one last sip of coffee, Dean entered the bathroom and firmly shut the door.

888

"Is that bacon," Sam asked as he entered the kitchen, his long slim fingers darting toward the plate piled high with strips of the salty meat.

His hand only made it half-way before it was slapped down. "Where've you two been," Sara asked as she turned from the stove, a spatula in one hand.

"Taking care of a couple 'a things. We've been back for a while, I was working on the van and Sam here was doing a bit of nosing around on that computer of his," Bobby answered as he elbowed past Sam and picked up a piece of bacon.

"What's wrong with the van," Sara asked a hint of blush creeping up her cheeks at the idea that Bobby and Sam had been home the whole time.

"Nothin's wrong and as long as you take care of it nothing will go wrong. I was just doing a bit of maintenance."

"Where's Dean?" Sam asked as he made another play for the plate that rested on the counter-top.

This time Sara waved the spatula with an irritated sigh, but didn't strike. She'd forgotten just how single-minded Sam could become when faced with a plate of bacon. "In the shower from the sound of things," she replied as she turned back to the stove and carefully flipped the squares of French toast on the griddle before her.

"I just came from there…" Sam said, his voice trailing off as he registered her words.

As a huge grin broke across the younger man's face, Sara didn't bother holding back with the spatula. Quick as a flash she whacked him in the arm, her face now blazing red.

"You wanna tell me what put that stupid grin on your face, Sammy boy?" Dean questioned as he stepped into the kitchen.

Sara turned from the stove and only just managed to keep her jaw from dropping open. There Dean stood, his legs clad in an old pair of jeans, his feet every bit as bare as his chest as he ran a hand through his short wet hair. Clean shaven and looking better than any man had a right to look, Sara couldn't have dragged her gaze from him if she'd wanted. Truth be told, she definitely didn't want to.

"You forget something, Dean?" Bobby growled as he reached in for another piece of bacon.

Dean ignored the question as he gave Sara an appraising once over, taking in her faded jeans and tank top, her long hair twisted up into a careless bun.

"How's the back?" Dean questioned as he began to stalk across the room, his intent clear.

Sara swallowed thickly and shrugged, it was really the only thing she could manage for a moment. As he neared she felt her knees go weak, and her suddenly boneless hand dropped the spatula. It never even got close to the floor. One second it was falling and the next a large brown hand snapped out to grab it out of mid air.

Dean held the utensil out to her, his lazy grin only serving to bring attention to the heat in his gaze. "Think you dropped this," Dean growled as he stepped even closer.

"I, uh, left something in the garage, I'm gonna go get it. Sam a little help here?" Bobby said as he watched Sara and Dean interact.

"I'm good here," was Sam's reply.

Trapped as she was by the intensity in Dean's eyes, Sara couldn't help the grin that spread over her features as she heard a sharp smack, and Sam's cry of outrage as the two hunters left the kitchen.

Confident that they were now alone, thanks to Bobby, bless his heart, Sara reached out and gently placed one hand over Dean's heart. "How's the shoulder?"

Dean captured her hand with his own, his rough fingertips gliding gently over the back of her hand as he held it tight to his chest. "I'm fine. What I asked is how're you doing?"

Already aware that she'd never be known for her coolness, Sara let loose the smile that had been threatening ever since she'd awoken. "I'm better than I have been in a long time," She assured Dean as she inched even closer.

With an answering grin, Dean leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers. Eyes closed, they stood like that for the longest time, each savoring the closeness. At last Dean said, "You're smoking."

Sara lifted her heavy lids and sent him a wink. "You're looking pretty hot yourself."

The burst of laughter that rang through the kitchen seemed so real and right that Sara could only stand staring up at him a stupid grin gracing her features.

"I meant," he started as he firmly gripped her shoulders and shifted her out of the way, "whatever's in the pan is smoking."

"Damnit," Sara cried as she turned to see that Dean was right. The four slices of egg-dipped bread were now charred beyond saving.

"No worries," Dean assured her as he gave her a small slap on the ass. "You get, go pour us a cup of coffee and find me a shirt. I'll finish up here."

Normally the highhandedness would have at least earned the younger man a frown, but today she found too much pleasure in watching Dean make his way around her kitchen as he set some new slices of bread to cook. As she refilled the mug he'd brought down, and she fixed herself a new cup, she couldn't stop her gaze from darting toward him every two minutes. She would have been embarrassed with her infatuation if it wasn't for the fact that nine times out of ten he was staring just as hard at her. Again and again they shared a grin, and twice, Dean dropped the spatula and came to corner her for a deep and lingering kiss.

At last, Dean had finished off the bread and had managed to set out all the food Sara had made. As he stood by her side, looking down at the smorgasbord of food she'd made Dean teased, "You do know that we eat when we're not here right."

Sara ran a hand down his side, her fingers trailing lightly over the ribs she could easily feel and frowned, "Yeah well I know you can, I just question if you do."

Dean acknowledged her worry with a kiss to the top of her head and then announced, "I'm gonna grab my shirt and yell for the guys." He was halfway to his room, when he turned, one brow lifted in question. "Hey I could have sworn I had a shirt in that duffle in your room, any clue where it got too?"

Intent on avoiding his gaze, Sara fussed with the plates that lined the table, as he continued to stand their obviously waiting for an answer she at last confessed, "I've been using it as a nightshirt."

The self-satisfied smirk on Dean's face was as familiar as his earlier laughter and every bit as welcome. "Oh, just go get dressed. Food's getting cold," She added as she wrenched her eyes from the sight of him standing in the doorway, one foot resting on the other.

888

"Ah, Sara that was a meal to remember," Bobby said as he pushed his plate away and eased back his seat.

Sara pushed away the compliment, "It was nothing, just a bit of breakfast. It was all I could scrounge up on such short notice."

Dean's careful gaze skimmed over the empty plates that once held, scrambled eggs, French toast, pancakes, an assortment of fresh fruit, toast, and the coveted bacon. "It was delicious," he assured her.

Sara grinned pleasure lighting up her face at his compliment. Dean couldn't ignore the bolt of lust that pierced him at her smile. It was already five in the evening, and he could feel time slipping away from them. Tomorrow would herald the arrival of the kids and then all too soon he and Sam would be packing their bags. Not wanting to waste a minute of their time together, Dean sent his brother an entreating look.

Sam always quick to the punch gave a slight nod and began to gather up the plates in front of him. "You guys cooked, I got clean-up."

"Works for me," Dean said as he shot a grateful look toward his baby brother.

"Now hold on a minute, we got things to discuss before everyone scatters," Bobby said, his brow furrowing as he tried to rescue his half-filled coffee cup from Sam. "I was drinking that, damnit," the older hunter cried out as Sam won the tug-of-war.

"We'll talk later, Bobby," Dean said as he stood and held his hand out to Sara.

In that moment he had no problem spotting the indecision on Sara's face. Part of her desperately wanted to go with him. To head back upstairs and pretend nothing else existed. The other part of her, the part that was her conscious wouldn't let her. "We should talk," she said easing back into her seat.

Dean shot his brother a frustrated look, but knew there'd be no help from that quarter when Sam dropped into the chair next to Bobby. "Things aren't as bad as we thought, Dean," Sam offered obviously trying to ease his brother's mind.

Out numbered, Dean sank into the chair next to Sara and eased close. So close his knee brushed her thigh and he was able to reach out and grip on of her hands. "What's that mean," he asked giving into the inevitable.

"It means that Greg isn't dead," Bobby said not bothering to beat around the bush.

Dean did a double take. "Excuse me," he asked his surprised gaze shooting towards his brother.

"Brian," Sara gasped as she stood, nearly knocking her chair over in the process.

Sam held up a hand, his hazel eyes reflecting his pity. "No, Brian was no mirage. We saw him Sara there's no doubt that he's gone."

Wiping the tears that were streaming down her cheeks, Sara nodded and sat in the chair that Dean pushed her into. He welcomed her strong grip, he had no doubt she was trying to ground herself, to keep from giving into the pain that her friends death caused.

"But, Greg?" Dean asked as he looked to Sam for confirmation.

"Was a glamour."

At the startled looks both Dean and Sara sent Sam, the younger man clarified. "I don't mean that he doesn't exist or that he wasn't in this house several times, but, the body in the shed. That was a mirage. Bobby figures the vampire-fairy was trying to break Sara for good. Stumbling over what appeared to be Greg's dead body, would have done the trick."

Dean nodded in understanding. "It's a good thing then that we didn't tell her."

"You saw his corpse?"

The brittle sound of Sara's voice was Dean's first clue that she was upset. Apparently Sam wasn't quite as up to date in Sara-speak. "Yeah, we figured you had enough to deal with we didn't want to upset you."

Even Bobby groaned at that reply. Dean, well, he could actually see his evening going to hell in one fell swoop. "Sam," Dean said intent on getting his brother to shut up. He then reached out, grasped Sara's chin, and turned her head, getting her attention. "We were going to tell you, but when we returned to the room, you were even worse. I didn't want to risk you growing even weaker."

At last with a nod, Sara nodded. "I understand. What about it's lair? Do you have to destroy it?"

Sam shook his head and Bobby reassured her, "Nah, it can't come back."

"Bobby also extended the protection circle that encloses the house. It goes clear into the woods now," Sam said the words for Sara but his eyes lingered on Dean.

Dean gave a nod of thanks to the grizzled hunter and asked, "That it, we're good?"

Sam and Bobby exchanged glances for a moment before Sam turned toward Dean at last. "Yeah, I think that's all."

"Good," Dean said as he made a show of standing and stretching, his back still twinged every now and again. Confident that no one was expecting it, Dean faced Sam and threw out, "So, Sam? What'd you do to the car?"

Sara who'd been about to stand froze, her eyes taking a decidedly caught in the headlights look.

Sam's stuttered, "What?" wasn't much more reassuring.

Dean crossed his arms and gave his little brother his very best glare. Though he had his suspicions, he wasn't going to rest until Sam caved and confessed. Then he was gonna beat the crap out of the youngest Winchester.

"Uh, I'm heading to your folks, Sara, your mom invited me to dinner. I'll catch y'all later," Bobby said as he stood. It was obvious the grey haired hunter knew when to cut and run.

"More dinner," Dean questioned his voice showing he harbored no anger toward the older hunter.

Bobby tilted his cap back a bit and sent Dean a grin, "Hey, if someone's cooking it, I'm gonna eat it. Catch you on the flipside."

With these words Bobby departed leaving the threesome alone. As soon as Bobby left the room, Dean rearranged his features and bit out, "Confession's good for the soul, Sammy, let's hear it."

So focused was he on his squirming brother, that Dean never noticed the broadside hit that Sara swung his way.

"Dean," she all but sighed, her breasts brushing against his arm as she rose up on her tiptoes to murmur in his ear.

At her breathy whisper, all thoughts fled Dean's mind. As stood staring at the widow, his jaw hanging open, she reached out, grabbed his hand and tugged. Sam was forgotten, the car was forgotten, hell, for a moment he wasn't even sure that he could remember how to breathe. Then as Sara dropped his hand and sashayed into the living room, Dean let loose a whoop and moved up behind her. With a laugh, he swung her into his arms and nearly ran up the steps.

888

Sam was caught, there was no getting free of the trap he was in. He only wished he could, hell, gnawing off his own leg seemed like a worthy exchange for having to tell his brother what he'd done. As he opened his mouth unsure of what he'd say, he noticed Sara suddenly go into motion.

As he stood slack-jawed with shock, the widow raised herself up on her tip-toes, brushing against Dean in a way that left little doubt as to what she wanted. Then in a voice too low for Sam to hear, she whispered something in his brother's ear and grinned.

Sam was certain he'd never seen his brother shift focus quite so fast. One moment he was glaring daggers at Sam and the next he'd swooped Sara into his arms and was heading for the stairs just as fast as he could manage.

As the realization sank in that he'd earned a reprieve for the moment, Sam couldn't help but feel as if a miracle had happened. He'd managed to avoid confessing and he'd gotten to keep all his limbs, all in all a banner day in Sam's book.

Happy to earn his keep by doing the dishes, Sam began straightening up, his mind already on which of Sara's latest novels he'd read as he kept big Jack company in the spare bedroom.

888

"Looking good there old man," Dean said as he patted the stubbly fur on Jack's broad back. It had been nearly two weeks since Jack had battled the Anchanchu and won. The big dog was finally starting to return to normal. Though his leg was still on the mend, he was having no problem getting around on his three good legs. As an added benefit, his other wounds had healed and the fur that had been shaved off had even begun to grow back.

With a low, happy, growl, the dog leaned against Dean his soulful brown eyes staring up at Dean's with devotion. Dean scratched behind his soft brown ear and reassured him, "We'll be back. No need to get all teary eyed."

"I'll cry if I want," Sara called from behind Dean.

Dean turned toward the widow as she stepped from the interior of the garage and grinned. She looked terrific and he had to work hard to convince himself that he could leave. Leave and come back was the litany that he kept repeating to himself. It was the come back part that mattered the most.

Without thought, he opened his arms and embraced her hard. As much as he didn't want to leave her, he actually felt good, he felt right, normal even. "I'll come back to you as soon as I can," he whispered the promise even as he tightened his hold.

Sara returned the fierce embrace and replied, "Just promise to watch out for each other."

With a nod and one last kiss, Dean stepped back, releasing his hold on her. "Right back atcha, I don't want to come home and find out something's stalking you again."

Sara punched him lightly in the gut, smiling at the exaggerated way he held his stomach and waved him toward the car and Sam.

Goodbyes said and done, Dean headed for the Impala. Once he was by the car, he took a moment to look over it's gleaming body. The midnight black paint shimmered in the early morning light, the coat of wax he'd so lovingly applied making it shine even more than normal. As he walked around the vehicle one hand lightly trailing on the paint, he approached Sam's side of the car.

With an easygoing grin, Dean snapped the passenger side door closed and leaned back, careful not to scratch the surface he'd spent so many hours on. Sam was headed his way, his bags still in his hands when he seemed to notice Dean leaning against the right side of the car. There it was, thought Dean, as he stared hard, the little tic in the corner of Sam's right eye. The one that said the boy was keeping secrets.

"What'cha doing, Sam?" Dean questioned his brother.

Sam shook his head, a nervous grin pulling at his lips. "Nothing, just gonna load up. We ready to go?"

Dean began to slowly roll up the sleeves of his flannel before answering. "I'm ready to go, you on the other hand ain't getting in my car."

With those few words, Sam's face collapsed as he looked desperately toward Sara for help. Dean called his brother's attention back to him. "What'd you do to my car, Sam?"

Sam's shaggy head dropped in shame and he mumbled something softly.

Dean held one hand to his ear and asked, "Could you repeat that, I didn't quite hear you."

"I slashed the Impala's tires." This time his confession was loud and clear.

Despite the fact that he'd guessed that little tidbit on his own, Dean still felt a red hot anger pulse through him at his brother's admission. "You know I ought to clock you one."

Pride stiffened Sam's spine as he tilted his head slightly back providing Dean with a perfect target. "You're right, hit me."

Dean's hand balled into a fist and he even went so far as to draw it back before he at last blew out a breath and dropped his fisted hand. He just couldn't do it, that didn't mean however that he couldn't make his brother suffer, just a bit.

"Tuck your chin in, kid. I'm not gonna hit you. You already owed me one for clocking you in the hospital. What I am gonna do is insist you apologize."

At his words, a weight seemed to be lifted from Sam's lanky frame. The younger hunter visibly relaxed, looking more at ease than he had in days. Without hesitation Sam offered, "I'm really sorry, Dean. I just didn't want to leave without making sure she was alright and you were so set on leaving."

Dean nodded, and replied, "I didn't mean apologize to me, Sam. I meant you need to apologize to her."

Sam stared at his brother long and hard before sending a confused glance toward Sara who was now obviously biting back a laugh. "Sara, but I don't—"

"Not Sara," Dean said firmly as he gave the black hood a loving pat and glanced pointedly toward the car.

So loud was Sam's groan, Dean was sure that people in Philadelphia probably heard it. "Yes, Samantha, it wasn't me you stabbed with a knife. If you wanna ride in her again, then you need to apologize."

Sam put his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes toward Sara. "Can you believe this? It's your ass we were saving you ought to be the one apologizing instead of laughing."

Much to Dean's delight Sara simply waved one hand and began to laugh even harder.

Sam now certain that Sara wouldn't interfere approached the black and chrome machine, the flush of embarrassment tinting his cheeks pink. "'msrry," Sam muttered.

Dean put a hand to his ear and again mimed, "I'm sorry what was that?"

"I'M SORRY!" Sam shouted his face now bright with embarrassment.

Dean shook his head, his own enjoyment of Sam's predicament growing by the minute. "Sam, Sam, Sam, you call that an apology?"

Cornered as only Dean could corner him, Sam at last gave up the fight. To the car he said, "I'm very sorry I slashed your tires." To Dean he said, "You're a dickhead."

With these words he headed for the trunk to stow his gear. Dean holding his side to ease the ache his laughter had wrought turned toward Sara and walked forward.

"You got way too much enjoyment out of making him squirm," Sara said as she eased her arm around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder for just one minute.

"Dean, Sam, don't leave yet," a shrill voice called just as two blurs darted from the back of the house at full steam. The smaller darker bit of body slammed hard into Dean his thin arms wrapping themselves tight around the older man's waist. The fairer headed straight for Sam, nearly knocking the tall hunter off his feet.

"You promised lots of pictures."

"…and when you get back we're gonna…" the kids shouted each other one striving to be heard over the other.

"Boys!" Sam and Dean shouted in unison.

Immediately two sets of eyes stared up at the hunters, one set the brightest of blue and the other a rich chocolate brown.

"Now," Dean said as he laid a hand on Mike's shoulder. "We've got out orders, we know what to do. What you need to do is listen to your Mom and take care of the household. You two are the men in the family till we get back."

Steel seemed to stiffen each sturdy body as the boys nodded solemnly at Dean's words. "We will," they answered in unison. So serious were they that Dean actually expected to be saluted.

"I a man, I a man, Dee," a slightly higher pitched voice called out.

Dean glanced up to see Jess running pell-mell across the driveway her intention clear. She was dressed in her finest princess dress, complete with a fuzzy pink tiara and a wand. Without hesitation, Dean strode toward her, meeting her halfway, swooped her into his arms, and swung her wide.

As he at last came to a halt, she hung breathless in his arms, her tiny rosebud mouth wide with laughter, and her big blue eyes twinkling in merriment. "Hey there princess," he said as he squeezed her hard enough to draw another giggle.

"I a man," she insisted, her chubby little hands tapping his chest for emphasis.

Dean shook his head and turned serious. "Nope you are a beautiful young lady. Your job is to keep your mother happy. Can you do that?"

Jess turned serious and she nodded, "I can do that, she likes to play princess with me. She's the evil queen."

"She can at times be an evil queen," Dean agreed, tossing a wink at an indigent looking Sara.

Two small hands reached up and clasped his cheeks drawing his face back to stare at Jess once more. "We'll wait for you," the little girl assured him as she dropped a tiny kiss on his nose.

"Always," he heard Sara whisper as she stepped forward to take the little girl from his embrace.

Dean nodded and stepped back, distancing himself from the Powers family. With a last wave to Sara and the kids, he passed his brother and headed for the drivers side door. Within minutes Sam was safely ensconced in the passenger seat and Dean could feel the familiar growl of the engine rumbling through the big car. "Ready?" he questioned Sam as he dropped the car into gear.

"Good to go," Sam replied as he tapped the folder he held in his hands.

"Let's roll," Dean said, his gaze drifting to the rearview mirror.

The End.


End file.
